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IM:  -A.IR,  IK  o 


THE   RUSSIAN   VIOLINIST. 


BY    kENRY    GREVILLE. 

AUTHOR  OF   "SAVELI'S   EXPIATION,"    "  I'lIILOMENE'S   MARRIAGES," 

"DOURNOF,"    "A  FRIEND,"    "MARRYING   OFF  A  DAUGHTER," 

"DOSIA,"   "PRETTY  LITTLE  COUNTESS  ZINA,"  "SONIA," 

"BONNE-MARIE,"  "  GABRIELLH,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH 
BY   MISS   HELEN  STANLEY. 


One  of  the  literary  editors  of  the  "Boston  Globe''  ivho  read  the  translator's  manu- 
s  rift  as  well  as  the  proof-sheets  of  "  Alarkof,"  for  Madame  Grfville,  says:  "It 
shows  a  power  that  will  place  the  author  in  the  first  rank  of  n<n>el  writers  in  our 
country  as  well  as  her  a:u>t.  It  is  a  musical  novel,  and  an  art  study,  and  the  meta- 
physical vein  in  which  she  now  writes  displays  her  genius  at  its  best,  and  this,  her 
iieiv  book,  will  afford  delight  to  the  most  cultivated  tuiitds.  The  character-drawing 
is  marvdlous  in  breadth  and  analysation,  and  gives  proof  of  rare  artistic  skill, 
11  hile  the  most  delicious  fancies,  expressed  in  graceful,  poetical  and  vigorous  lan- 
t-nder  the  author's  style  incomparably  chat  wing.  ' Markof  also  show's  an 
uiiusual  degree  of  dramatic  talent,  and  we  Jed  assured  will  be  considered  the  I i'.\t 
book  the  author  has  »vrr  written,  giving  promise  that  her  fame  will  be  unequalled, 
since,  it  is  a  revelation  of  a  varied  and  inexhaustible  capacity  whi\h  astonishes  as  well 
as  delights  the  reader.  The  English  version  retains  the  strong,  clear  style  af  the 
J-rcnch  with  commendable  fidelity .  There  art  a  f*W  letter*  in  t'lz  novei  which,  ate 
unique,  and  their  style  is  admirably  preserved  in  the  translation." 


PHILADELPHIA: 
T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS; 

306    CHESTNUT    STREET. 


COrYIlIGHT: 
T.    IB.    IFETIEIELSOItT    &s 
1879. 


HENRY  GREVILLE'S  CELEBRATED  NOVELS. 

Mark  of.  the  Russian  Violinist.    By  Henry  Greville,  author  of  "Saveli's 

Expiation,"  "Dosia,"  etc.     Translated  in  Paris,  by  Miss  Helen  Stanley. 

"MARKOF"  is  an  art  study,  full  of  beautiful  prose  and  true  poetry,  and  such  as  could 

be  written  only  by  an  artist  and  genius.     It  will  introduce  Henry  Greville's  claims  of 

superiority  over  other  novelists,  to  every  one  who  reads  for  criticism  or  pleasure,  and  will 

at  once  establish  them,  for  no  French  authoress  of  to-day  equals  her  in  power  and  interest. 

I>osia.      A  Russian   Story.     By  Henry  Grevillr.,  author  of  "Bonne-Marie,"  "Saveli's 

Expiation,"  "  Philomene's  Marriages,"  "Marrying  Off  a  Daughter,"  "Souia,"  etc. 
"  DostA  "  has  been  crowned  by  the  French  Academy  as  the  Prize  Novel  of  the  year- 
It  is  a  charming  story  of  Kussian  society,  is  written  with  a  rare  grace  of  style,  is  brilliant, 
pleasing  and  attractive.    "  DOSIA  "  is  an  exquisite  creation,  and  is  pure  and  fresh  as  a  rose. 

]>onrnor.     A  Russian  Story.     By  Henry  Grevill?,  author  of  "Saveli's  Expiation," 

"  Dosia,"  "  Markof,"  "  Bonne-Marie,"  etc.     Translated  by  Marie  Stewart. 
"DOURNOF"  was  written  in  Russia  during  Madame  Greville's  residence  in  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  is  a  charming  and  graphic  story  of  Russian  life,  containing  careful  studies  of 
Russian  character,  and  character  drawing,  which  are  most  admirable. 

Marrying-  Off  a  Daughter.     By  Henry  Grtville,  author  of  "  Dosia,"  "Savgli's 

Expiation,"  "  Gabrielle,"  "  A  Friend,"  etc.     Translated  by  Mary  Neal  Sherwood. 
"  MARRYING  OFF  A  DAUGHTER  "  is  gay,  sparkling,  and  pervaded  by  a  delicious  touo  of 
quiet  humor,  and  will  be  read  and  enjoyed  by  thousands  of  readers. 

Bonne-Marie.     A  Tale  of  Normandy  and  Paris.    By  Henry  Greville,  author  of 
"  Dosia,"  "  Saveli's  Expiation,"  "  Sonia,"  etc.     Translated  by  Mary  Real  Sherwood. 
"BONNE-MARIE"  is  a  charming  story,  the  scenes  of  which  are  laid  in  Normandy  and 
in  Paris.    It  will  no  doubt  create  a  sensation,  such  is  its  freshness,  beauty,  and  delicacy. 

Save'li's  Expiation.    By  Henry  Greville,  author  of  "Markof."    A  dramatic  and 

powerful  novel,  and  a  pure  love  story.     Translated  by  Mary  Real  SJierwood. 
"  SAVELI'S  EXPIATION  "  is  one  of  the  most  dramatic  and  most  powerful  novels  ever  pub- 
lished, while  a  pathetic  love  story,  running  all  through  its  pages,  is  presented  for  relief. 

Pretty   Little   Conntess    Ziiia.      By   Henry    Grfi-ille,   author  of  "Dosia," 

"  Saveli's  Expiation,"  "A  Friend,"  etc.      Translated  by  Mary  Real  Slierwood. 
Zina,  the  Countess,  bears  a  certain  resemblance  to  Dosia — that  bewitching  creature — in 
her  dainty  wilfulness,  while  the  ward  and  cousin,  Vassalissa,  is  an  entire  new  creation.  ( 

Sonia.      A   Russian   Story.      By   H>-nry  Grtville,   author  of   "Saveli's  Expiation," 

"  Marrying  Off  a  Daughter,"  "  Gabrielle,"  etc.     Translated  by  Mary  Neal  Shenuood. 
"  SONIA"  is  charming  and  refined,  and  is  a  powerful,  graceful,  domestic  story,  being 
most  beautifully  told — giving  one  a  very  distinct  idea  of  every-day  home  life  in  Russia. 

Philomene's  Marriages.     From  the  French  of  "Les  Mariages  de  Philomene." 

By  Henry  Greville,  author  of  "  Dosia,"  "  Saveli's  Expiation,"  "  Gabrielle,"  etc. 
The  American  edition  of  "PHILOMENE'S  MARRIAGES,"  contains  a  Preface  written  by 
Henry  Greville,  addressed  to  her  American  Readers,  which  is  not  in  the  French  edition. 

Ciabrielle;  or,  The  House  or  Manreze.    By  Henry  Greville,  author  of, 

"  Markof,"  "  Dosia,"  "  Saveli's  Expiation,"  "  Bonne-Marie,"  etc. 

"GABRIELLE;  OR,  THE  HOUSE   OF    MAUREZE,"  is  a  very  thrilling  and  touching  story, 
most  skilfully  told,  and  follows  the  life  of  the  girl  whose  title  it  bears. 

A  Friend;  or,  L'Ami.     A  Story  of  Every-Day  Life.    By  Henry  Greville,  author 

of  "Sonia,"  and  "  Saveli's  Expiation."     Translated  in  Paris  by  Miss  Helen  Stanley. 
This  tender  and  touching  picture  of  French  home-life  will  touch  many  hearts,  as  it  shows 
how  the  love  of  a  true  and  good  woman  will  meet  with  its  reward  and  triumph  at  last. 

QJL^        JU ,  Vujuu4<ct£|  c  » C-fiuv 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Pa"o 

I.   MISFORTUNE 21 

n.  FATHER  KOUZMA'S  SERMON ;;j 

III.  THE  FUTURE  CHANGED 35 

IV.  THE  STORM 41 

V.   AT   THE  THEOLOGICAL    SEMINARY 53 

VI.  THE    CHERRY-TREES 64 

VII.  THE    ARCHIMANDRITE   ARSENE 71 

VIII.  CLASSICAL  MUSIC 88 

IX.  A   PROTECTOR  FOR   DEMIANE 95 

X.  A   CALLING 100 

XI.  A  RUNAWAY 107 

XII.  THE  MONASTERY 1  1  'I 

XIII.  A    FRESCO 

XIV.  FURNISHED    APARTMENTS 131 

XV.  PETIT-GRIS 11- 

XVI.   VICTOR   CHOOSES  A   PROFESSION \'>\ 

XVII.   GOING   INTO  THE  WORLD 1 '  - 

xvni.  MARKOF'S  VISION 178 

XIX.   ADMITTED   TO    THE    CONSERVATOIRE 179 

xx.  PARACHA'S  WEDDING 193 

XXI.    THE   PRINCESS    CLEOPATRE 

XXII.   A    RUSSIAN    VIOLIN 208 

(19) 

M512215 


20  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

XXIII.  A  MESSAGE 223 

XXIV.  A   WANDERING   MOOD 228 

XXV.   JAROSLAV 234 

xxvi.  LITTLE  HELENE'S  MAMMA 241 

XXVII.    TEA   AT   LITTLE   HELENE'S 247 

XXVIII.   THE   BOUQUET 259 

XXIX.   MADAME   LA   GENERALE's   PARTY 275 

XXX.   DRIVEN   AWAY ! 282 

XXXI.    QUICK    RESOLVES 287 

XXXII.    DESCENDING   THE   VOLGA 292 

XXXIII.   FARTHER    STILL 305 

xxxiv.  ANDRE'S  TRIBULATIONS  .  ,..,,..,.....  311 

xxxv.  CLEOPATRE'S  PRINCIPLES 322 

XXXVI.  DEMIANE  FINDS  HIS  MAGNET 330 

XXXVII.  THE  FETISH 340 

XXXVIII.  DEMIANE  AWAKES 346 

XXXIX.  VICTOR  ANGRY 353 

XL.  LITTLE  HELENE  REVEALS  HERSELF. .  .  .  359 

XLI.  CLEOPATRE'S  PROTECTION 366 

XLTI.  A  ROSE , , , 371 

XLIII.  DEMIANE  IS  TOO  EXACTING 377 

XLIV.  INDEPENDENCE 383 

XLV.  ANDRE  ASKS  FOR  HELP 390 

XL VI.  THE  ROLES  ARE  CHANGED 396 

XL vii.  HELENE'S  BOUQUET 408 

XL VIII.    INSULT   AND    SEPARATION 416 

XLIX.    HELENE    REFUSES 430 

LX.    ANDRE   STRUGGLES   AGAINST   VARIOUS 

TROUBLES 441 

LI.    THE   LITTLE    WILD    GIRL 452 

LII.   THE   VICTORY  OF   HELENE .    460 


M  A  R  K  O  F. 

THE    RUSSIAN    VIOLINIST. 
BY     HENRY    GREVILLE. 


AUTHOR    OF 


"BONNE    MARIE,"    "PHILOMENE'S    MARRIAGES," 
DOSIA,"   "PRETTY  LITTLE  COUNTESS  ZINA,"   "  SONIA," 
"MARRYING  OFF  A  DAUGHTER,"  "  A  FRIEND;  L'AMI," 
"SAVELl'S  EXPIATION,"   "  GABRIELLE,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MISFORTUNE. 

FATHER  KOUZMA,  seated  before  his  desk  of  white 
wood,  that  had  grown  yellow  with  years,  and  was 
ornamented  with  numberless  spots  of  ink  of  every  pos- 
sible size,  was  laboriously  preparing  a  sermon  for  the 
first  Sunday  in  Lent.  At  that  time,  as  at  present,  but 
not  more  so  than  now-a-days,  parish  priests  in  Russia 
were  sparing  of  their  sermons.  Five  or  six  times  a 
year  at  most,  did  they  address  their  flocks:  the  latter 
standing  up  with  bowed  heads,  received  this  addition 
to  the  divine  service  with  about  the  same  resignation 
with  which  they  would  receive  a  shower  on  going  out 

(21) 


22  MARKOF. 

of  church.  This  duty  accomplished  on  both  sides,  the 
shepherd  and  the  sheep  are  wont  to  separate  in  a 
friendly  manner,  and  with  a  real  feeling  of  relief. 

What  do  dogmas  matter  to  those  simple,  deeply 
credulous  souls  ?  And  on  the  other  hand,  what  ability, 
or  what  knowledge,  of  the  human  heart,  is  necessary 
in  order  to  be  able  to  find  the  feeling  words  that  can 
reach  the  humble  hearts  of  ones  so  rude,  or  that  can 
stir  human  beings,  who  are  weary  of  life  and  worn 
out  with  work,  and  who  have  become  indifferent  to 
almost  everything  under  the  yoke  of  serfdom,  and 
who,  moreover,  are  resigned  in  advance  to  all  possible 
calamities  ? 

Father  Kouzma  was  not  of  those  who  could  find  such 
utterances ;  his  life  had  been  spent,  not  in  struggling 
against  daily  troubles,  but  in  enduring  them,  as  one 
endures  illness  and  death,  —  sometimes  with  a  dumb 
discontent,  often  with  a  sullen  resignation,  and  some- 
times, but  rarely,  with  a  sort  of  inner  mockery  of  spirit. 
"  For  all  thou  hast  been  so  hard,"  he  was  wont  to  say 
to  Fate ;  "  thou  wilt  never  be  so  clever  as  myself,  who 
have  found,  in  spite  of  promising  beginnings,  the  means 
wherewith  to  diminish  my  chances  of  happiness  and  to 
lead  a  wretched  existence." 

Kouzma  Markof  had  married,  like  all  of  his  profes- 
sion, a  short  time  before  receiving  his  last  ordination, 
the  ecclesiastical  rule  requiring  that  a  young  man 
should  have  laid  aside  the  first  cares  and  the  new 
emotions  of  marriage  before  he  fully  enters  upon  his 
priesthood.  He  had  married  a  sweet  young  girl,  insig- 
nificant both  in  appearance  and  mind,  who  possessed 


M  A  K  K  O  F  .  23 

no  energy  either  for  good  or  evil.  From  this  union 
five  children  had  been  born,  only  three  of  whom  had 
survived.  With  the  children,  their  cares  and  expenses 
had  increased ;  the  popadia  was  not  very  orderly ;  little 
by  little,  the  corners  of  the  furniture  were  knocked  off, 
the  straw  bottoms  of  the  chairs  gave  way,  the  calico 
curtains  were  full  of  long  rents  which  the  weary,  worn 
woman  delayed  darning.  The  home  became  dreary. 
Father  Kouzma  from  time  to  time  took  a  little  consola- 
tion in  the  form  of  a  glass  of  brandy,  and  his  ideas  did 
not  become  clearer  on  account  of  it.  His  parishioners, 
without  despising  him  for  a  weakness  which  is  nowhere 
considered  a  crime,  did  not  evince  the  same  haste  as 
formerly,  in  bowing  to  him  in  the  street,  or  in  bringing 
him  their  offerings,  so  that  by  degrees  the  cure  of 
Gradovka,  which  had  formerly  been  considered  one 
of  the  best  in  the  province,  lost  its  splendor  arid  dwin- 
dled into  an  unimportant  position. 

Father  Kouzma  knew  this,  and  it  was  not  without 
cruel  suffering  to  his  pride  that  he  had  passed  under 
the  Caudine  Forks  of  this  forfeiture,  and  it  was  because 
he  appreciated  his  abasement  that  he  had  given  up 
struggling  with  Fate. 

"I  have  no  luck,"  he  would  say,  and  it  was  true. 
With  an  active,  careful  wife,  who  was  full  of  courage, 
the  cure  would  have  remained  as  it  had  been.  But 
with  whom  could  he  find  fault?  The  popadia  was  as 
God  had  made  her ;  she  brought  no  element  of  trouble 
into  their  existence;  being  resigned  to  all  calamities, 
she  endured  disorder  as  she  did  the  rain  or  a  fever. 
She  classed  everything  that  annoyed  her  under  one 


24  M  A  ft  K  O  F  . 

head:  everything  was  an  unpleasantness  — "What  can 
I  do  about  it?"  she  would  add;  "it  is  God's  will!" 

And,  thanks  to  this  fine  argument,  her  children  had 
skirts  full  of  holes,  her  husband  greasy  gowns,  and  her- 
self frocks  that  were  frayed  at  the  bottom  and  worn 
out  at  the  top ;  her  servant  maid  did  not  obey  her,  the 
meals  were  detestable,  and  everything  went  wrong, 
except  the  making  of  the  azyme  bread  on  Saturday 
night,  which  was  intended  for  the  next  day's  mass,  and 
which  was  always  admirably  successful.  On  this  point 
alone  the  popadia  had  retained  her  youthful  pride. 

Father  Kouzma  tried  to  write  a  sermon  from  some 
old  homilies  which  had  formerly  served  his  predecessor, 
who  had  also  been  his  father-in-law,  for  he  had  entered 
into  possession  of  the  cure  on  account  of  his  marriage 
with  the  titulary's  daughter. 

Such  affairs  are  generally  easily  arranged,  demanding 
only  a  superior's  consent,  which  is  very  rarely  wanting, 
and  only  in  grave  circumstances — when  the  priest  has 
no  sons,  or  when  the  sons  have  chosen  another  profes- 
sion, or  yet  again,  when  the  children,  which  is  not  an 
exceptional  case,  prefer  to  seek  another  nest.  No  one 
is  a  prophet  in  his  own  country,  and  the  peasants  can 
remember  the  youthful  pranks  of  those  who  become 
their  pastors,  and  the  sons  of  priests,  who  are  priests 
themselves,  often  try  to  marry  girls  who  are  endowed 
with  as  fine  a  cure  as  possible. 

Kouzma  had  no  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  future  of  his 
cure  with  two  sons,  one  of  whom,  no  doubt,  would  be 
touched  by  grace.  Besides,  the  elder,  who  had  been 
prepared  from  his  childhood  to  enter  into  holy  orders, 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  !_!  •") 

ilroady  took  very  nicely  to  Latin.  He  know  the  sa.-r.-d 
texts  perfectly,  and  promised  to  obtain  some  exceptional 
•eward  at  the  Theological  Seminary.  He  was  a  though t- 
•ul,  serious  youth,  not  without  his  share  of  juvenile 
rayety,  of  course,  but  his  reasonable  mind  promised  to 
»ave  him  from  many  of  the  mortifications  his  lather  had 
tnown, 

"If  he  only  finds  a  good  wife  !"  sighed  his  father,  as 
tie  thought  of  his  own,  who  was  good  assuredly,  hut  pft 
;ncapable  of  helping  him.  The  old  homilies  did  not 
.nspiiv  this  pastor  of  a  flock  who  was  but  little  appre- 
ciative of  sacred  eloquence,  and  he  closed  the  copy 
book  yellow  with  age,  held  his  head  in  his  hands,  and 
began  to  dig  into  his  poor  weary  brain. 

The  August  wind  beat   against  the  window  p 
svith  a  little  fine,  fierce  rain,  that  ceased  from  tin: 
time,  to  begin  again  stronger;  the  dull,  gray  day 
no  indication  of  the  hour  it  might  be,  though  the  sun 
-till  high  in  the  horizon;  but  so  many  elonds  hid 
the   poor  sun  that  it  would  take  at   lea>t   four  or  five 
lays  before   it   could  pierce   through  them.     Autumn 
wits   approaching;    the    yellow-grown   leaves   that    fell 
Prom  the  birch-trees,  and  that  were  driven  again>t   and 
fastened  to  the  window-panes  by  the  strength  of 
rain,  spoke  of  shortened  days,  of  long,  sad  evcniir 
muddy,  impassable  roads,  of  the  three  months 
tion,  which  are  so  hard  to  endure,  before  the  beautiful 
dear  nights,  and  the  hard  carpet  of  pure  snow  of 
still  distant  winter  should  come. 

Father  Kouzma  shivered.  The  melancholy  of  the 
unusually  early  Autumn  seemed  to  h  into 


26  MARK  OF. 

the  very  marrow  of  his  bones.     He  rose  and  opened  a 
door. 

"Wife,"  said  he,  "it  is  dreary,  prepare  us  some 
tea." 

The  popadia  was  very  fond  of  tea  and  its  natural 
accompaniments,  small  rolls  and  preserves.  She  ran  to 
the  kitchen  and  ordered  the  maid  to  heat  the  samovar. 
The  latter  eagerly  obeyed.  In  the  vast  territory  which 
all  the  Russias  comprise,  no  one  is  indifferent  to  tea. 
*  Comforted  by  the  hope  of  an  immediate  diversion, 
Father  Kouzma  returned  to  his  study-table,  and  began 
to  turn  over  his  books  and  copy-books  more  energet- 
ically. 

"About  what  shall  I  speak  to  them  ?  "  he  murmured. 
"About  detachment  from  the  things  of  this  world? 
Poor  people  !  They  have  nothing  to  attach  themselves 
to,  as  have  the  lords ;  but  they  are  good  lords,  who 
oestow  as  much  charity  as  they  can.  They  gave  a 
violin  to  my  youngest  boy  last  Christmas.  It  amuses 
the  little  fellow,  and  he  does  not  play  badly  for  one  who 
has  never  been  taught.  '  The  proofs  of  the  existence 
of  God?'  They  do  not  need  to  have  it  proved  to 
them,  they  believe  in  Him  enough  without  that.  '  Of 
resignation  to  the  will  of  Providence  ? '  Ah !  yes, 
resignation,  every  one  has  need  of  that !  Resignation ! " 

Father  Kouzma  sighed,  he  sighed  as  naturally  as  one 
breathes;  then  he  began  attentively  to  read  the  text 
which  he  had  under  his  eyes.  It  was  a  very  simple 
homily;  the  old  man  who  had  written  it  had  been 
detached  from  every  thing,  and  resignation  had  been  all 
the  easier  to  him,  because  he  possessed  within  himself  a 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  27 

well  conditioned  foundation  of  egotism.  One  resigns 
oneself  easily  to  misfortunes,  if  they  do  not  touch  one's 
life  or  fortune,  when  one  has  the  happiness  of  loving 
only  oneself !  The  old  Priest's  fortune  had  been  a  sure, 
though  small  one,  and  his  only  unhappy  blow  had  been 
his  death,  about  which  he  had  not  had  time  to  be  troubled, 
having  succumbed  to  an  apoplectic  stroke.  He  spoke 
therefore  about  resignation  with  a  calm  assurance,  as  a 
very  simple,  very  natural  thing,  and  seemed  to  find 
those  who  did  not  make  an  absolute  profession  of  it, 
very  reprehensible. 

"  It  was  easy  for  him  !  "  Father  Kouzma  murmured, 
as  he  finished  his  reading.  "  Though  our  peasants  are 
resigned  to  their  fate  already,  I  believe  they  do  not 
accept  their  share  of  the  misfortunes  of  this  world  so 
easily.  And  as  to  regarding  them  as  a  blessing  hum 
the  Lord,  who  chasteneth  whom  He  loveth,  I  have 
repeated  that  to  myself  for  a  long  while,  and  I  cannot 
accept  it.  I  am  resigned,  yes,  but  as  to  being  grateful 
—  but  it  is  very  wrong  for  me  to  think  thus,  I,  who  am 
a  priest ! " 

He  sighed  again;  but  fortunately  his  wife's  head 
appeared  through  the  half-opened  door. 

"Father  Kouzma,"  said  she,  "the  tea  is  ready,  will 
you  come  ?  " 

He  rose  and  followed  her  into  the  dining-room. 
Nothing  particularly  pleasing  rested  one's  eyes  in  tins 
room  which  was  not  of  large  size,  and  the  sa// 
itself,  which  in  Russian  households  attracts  the  eye  like 
the  cauldron  in  Tenier's  pictures,  was  dull  and  badly 
cleaned.  This  did  not  prevent  the  tea  from  being  good, 


28  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

however,  and  the  Priest  drank  a  glass  of  it  with  evident 
satisfaction.  As  his  wife  was  pouring  out  some  a  second 
time,  he  glanced  around  him. 

"  Where  are  the  children  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Prascovie  is  ironing  clothes  in  the  kitchen,  and  the 
boys  have  gone  off  to  look  after  their  snares  in  the 
woods.  Victor  thinks  they  must  have  taken  some 
game." 

"  In  this  weather  ?  " 

"Yes,  the  birds  hide  themselves  under  the  leaves 
when  it  rains." 

Father  Kouzma  made  no  objection  to  this ;  moreover 
what  did  it  matter  to  him  ?  His  eldest  boy  Victor,  was 
enjoying  his  vacation :  in  ten  days  he  would  return  to 
the  Theological  Seminary,  and  then,  farewell,  to  his 
excursions  in  the  woods,  till  the  next  year.  Another 
anxiety  came  to  him  then,  an  anxiety  which  he  had 
thought  about  again  and  again  a  hundred  times ;  what 
would  he  do  with  his  younger  son,  Demiane,  whose 
energetic  and  self-willed  character  sometimes  gave  him 
much  annoyance?  Until  then,  he  had  shared  the 
studies  and  recreations  of  the  lord's  children,  but 
Monsieur  Roussof's  sons  were  going  to  enter  the  gym- 
nasium in  Moscow  to  begin  their  studies ;  he  had  not 
the  means  to  send  his  son  to  the  gymnasium ;  what 
should  he  do  with  the  strange  fellow  ? 

"  He  loves  only  music,"  Father  Kouzma  said  to  him- 
self, "  and  music  is  not  a  calling,  it  leads  to  nothing ! 
The  violin  they  have  given  him,  has  made  him  more 
fascinated  with  it  than  ever." 

He   drank   the   contents   of  his   glass   and   held   it 


MARKOF.  29 

towards  his  wife  to  fill  with  tea  a  third  time ;  she  took 
it  and  was  about  filling  it,  when  in  the  midst  of  the 
operation  she  stopped,  with  her  hand  in  the  air,  and  the 
spout  of  the  tea-pot  raised : 

"What  is  that?"  said  she,  leaning  her  head  towards 
the  window. 

A  confused  sound  of  steps  and  low  exclamations 
approached  their  dwelling.  This  sound  was  not  that  of 
a  tumult  as  it  would  not  have  failed  to  have  been  in  any 
western  country :  it  was  a  sort  of  groan,  a  low-voiced 
lamentation ;  the  footsteps  even  seemed  as  though  they 
wished  to  conceal  themselves.  This  unusual  noise 
ceased  a  few  metres  from  the  house ;  the  crowd  seemed 
to  be  consulting  together.  At  length  the  Deacon 
stepped  out  from  it  and  went  alone  to  the  small 
flight  of  wooden  steps  that  ornamented  the  Priest's 
house.  He  was  bare-headed,  and  an  unwonted  gravity 
overshadowed  his  jovial  face. 

"  What  does  he  want  with  us  ?  "  asked  the  Priest,  a 
little  disquieted,  he  knew  not  wherefore. 

Before  he  could  go  to  meet  the  new-comer,  the 
latter  appeared  on  the  threshold.  Without  raising 
his  eyes,  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  three  times, 
and  saluted  the  husband  and  wife,  bowing  his  head  to 
his  waist. 

"  God  be  with  you !  "  said  he,  in  his  rich  bass  voice, 
that  made  the  windows  and  the  porcelain  resound. 
"  The  Lord  chasteneth  whom  He  loveth." 

Father  Kouzma  tried  to  speak,  but  his  tongue  could 
make  no  movement.  He  moved  his  right  hand,  as 
though  to  question  him. 


30  M  A  RKOF. 

"  A  misfortune  has  befallen  your  house,"  the  Deacon 
continued,  in  a  trembling  voice ;  "  but  Providence,  in 
wounding  you,  has  still  spared  you  — " 

"  My  sons  ?  "  cried  the  distracted  mother. 

"  Only  one,  and  he  still  lives." 

"  Which  one  ? "  asked  Father  Kouzma,  while  his 
wife  rushed  out  of  doors. 

"  The  eldest ;  he  fell  from  a  tree,  and  must  have  hurt 
himself  very  dangerously,  for  he  has  broken  one  of  his 
legs,  and  cannot  stand  at  all  on  the  other." 

Father  Kouzma  fell  back  in  his  chair,  and  the  text  of 
his  sermon  returned  to  his  mind. 

"  Resignation  to  the  will  of  Providence,"  said  he. 
"I  blasphemed,  and  the  punishment  was  not  long  in 
coming! " 

He  remained  motionless  for  a  moment,  with  his 
hands  over  his  eyes,  while  great  tears  coursed  down  his 
cheeks  and  fell  on  the  large  brass  cross  that  trembled 
upon  his  breast ;  then  he  rose  and  went  and  prostrated 
himself  before  the  images  which  ornamented  a  corner 
of  the  room. 

"  The  Lord  gave  him  to  me,"  said  he,  aloud,  after 
a  short  prayer,  "and  if  the  Lord  wishes  to  take  him 
from  me,  may  His  name  be  blessed !  " 

But  his  resignation  was  only  apparently  real.  At 
that  same  moment  his  son  entered,  borne  by  two 
robust  peasants.  The  young  man,  who  had  fainted, 
looked  as  if  he  were  dead.  His  curly  hair  fell  over  his 
closed  eyes ;  and  his  pale  cheeks,  and  refined  features 
that  were  drawn  by  anguish,  made  his  face  look  like  a 
waxen  one. 


M  A  i:  K  o  F.  ;;i 

The  bearers  passed  silently  into  the  childivn's  mom, 
fhere  they  laid  Victor  on  his  bed.  In  spite  of  tht-ir 
Tecautions,  that  were  so  tender  and  so  surprising  (lli 
he  part  of  the  rough  men,  pain  drew  him  from  his 
i  in  ting  fit,  and  he  gave  a  heart-rending  cry. 

"  He  lives ! "  cried  his  father ;  and  then  suddenly 
lecoming  firm,  he  immediately  sent  a  messenger  to  the 
jrd's  house,  to  request  the  master  to  come  himself,  for 
ie  was  a  physician,  and  would  know  how  to  save  his 
on. 


32  .  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 


CHAPTER  II. 

FATHER  KOUZMA'S  SERMON. 

MONSIEUR  ROUSSOF  was  a  physician;  not  a 
very  distinguished  one,  though  what  he  had 
earned,  added  to  his  family  patrimony,  procured  him 
a  very  pleasant  existence.  He  was  able  to  give  up 
practice  during  the  summer,  thanks  to  the  inveterate 
habit  of  villegiatura,  which  forces  Russians  to  go  out  of 
town,  where  they  find  themselves  very  uncomfortable, 
instead  of  remaining  in  the  city  where  they  are  settled, 
with  a  garden  and  all  the  comforts  of  existence. 

That  the  summer  must  be  spent  somewhere  else  than 
at  one's  home,  is  an  established  custom.  Monsieur 
Roussof  did  not  protest  against  this  arrangement, 
which  permitted  him  to  give  his  wife  and  children  a 
breath  of  country  air  during  four  months  of  the  year, 
without  causing  him  to  lose  any  of  the  benefits  of  his 
profession. 

He  soon  arrived  at  Father  Kouzma's  house,  and 
proceeded  to  examine  the  wounded  youth.  When  he 
had  set  the  broken  leg,  he  passed  his  fingers  gently 
down  the  young  man's  spine.  The  father,  who  was 
watching  him,  saw  his  face  assume  that  grave  expres- 
sion which  he  had  often  seen  by  the  side  of  many  a 
death-bed,  and  his  own  features  contracted  horribly. 

"  I  think  he  will  live,"  said  the  physician,  raising  his 
head ;  "  but  I  fear  he  will  be  deformed." 

"  Deformed  !  "  repeated  the  Priest,  raising  his  hands 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

toward  heaven,  as  if  to  implore  its  aid.     u  What  : 
matter  with  him  '.; '' 

"There  is  some  injury  to  the  spine.  Since  he  now 
lives,  in  all  probability  he  will  survive;  but  he  may 
become  a  hunchback." 

"A  hunchback!" 

"  He  will  lose  m  height,  at  least.    Keep  him  perf 
quiet,  will  you  not  ?  " 

The  Priest  promised  what  the  physician  desired,  >md 
the  latter  left  to  send  from  his  own  house  every  tiling 
that  might  comfort  the  invalid. 

When  Father  Kouznia  found  himself  alone  by  the  bed 
of  suffering,  he  looked  for  a  long  time  at  his  son  who 
was  sleeping  —  thanks  to  a  narcotic  that  Roussot'  had 
given  him. 

Night  had  come.     The  fine  rain  still  beat  again-: 
window-panes,  and  the  most  mournful  sadne>s  *\ 
over  the  room,  which  was   badly   lighted   by 
candle  and  the  smoky  lamp  before  the   Images.     The 
1'riest  lit  a  taper  before  the  child's  patron   -aint,  then 
returned  to  him. 

Was  it  possible  that  that  splendid  figure,  those  deli- 
cate and  graceful  limbs,  would  become  ohjrc  ; 
ridicule.  That  his  first-born  would  be  a  pitiable  and 
wretched  being,  deprived  of  the  joys  of  life,  when  only 
that  morning  he  was  happy  in  the  possession  <.f  all  the 
powers  of  a  healthy,  vigorous  man  7 

ulle  is  young,"  said  he  to  himself,  "he  is  only  nine- 
teen;  at  that  age,  every  thing  may  be  hoped.     KM; 
is  mistaken;  it  is  not  possible  !  " 

Sunday  having  come,  when  the  divine  service  was 

^ 


34  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

over  he  moved  forward  to  the  edge  of  the  balustrade 
that  separates  the  choir  from  what  is  properly  called 
the  church,  in  order  to  deliver  his  sermon  to  the  assem- 
bled people ;  he  saw  all  their  eyes  fixed  upon  him  with 
an  expression  of  expectation.  These  persons  were 
ready  to  listen  respectfully  to  what  he  was  about  to 
say  to  them,  without  hoping  to  derive  great  profit  from 
it,  either  for  their  bodies  or  their  souls. 

"My  brothers,"  said  Father  Kouzma,  casting  a  glance 
over  the  assemblage,  "I  am  going  to  speak  to  you 
to-day  about  resignation  to  the  will  of  Providence. 
We  are  all  born  in  anguish  and  sorrow,  and  none  of  us 
know  what  God  may  have  in  reserve  for  us;  it  is  well 
therefore,  to  prepare  ourselves  beforehand,  to  suffer  the 
calamities  which  He  may  wish  to  send  us,  for  trouble 
coming  upon  us  suddenly,  overcomes  us,  and  leaves  us 
without  strength." 

His  voice  trembled ;  he  tried  to  clear  .it  by  coughing 
twice,  then  he  continued: 

"  God  chasteneth  whom  He  loveth,  and  we  should 
kiss  with  gratitude  the  hand  that  strikes.  So  should  I 
—  I,  who  lately  had  two  sons  in  perfect  health " 

Speech  forsook  him  suddenly;  he  tried  in  vain  to 
continue.  Tears  streamed  from  his  eyes  as  he  turned 
quickly  away  to  hide  them  from  the  people. 

But  the  simple  men  all  understood  him  and  a  mur- 
mur of  sympathy  passed  through  their  ranks. 

"My  brothers,"  said  the  Deacon,  "let  as  pray  for 
those  who  suffer — for  the  sick  and  the  afflicted. 

The  crowd  intoned  at  the  same  moment  with  the 
choristers,  the  Parce  Domine,  and  there  was  no  more 
thought  of  a  sermon  that  dav. 


MARKOF.  35 

CHAPTER    III. 

THE     FUTURE     CHANGED. 

THE  autumn  came,  then  the  winter.  The  long  nights, 
thick  with  snow,  whose  silence  nothing  disturbed, 
passed  one  after  the  other  over  the  bed  where  Victor 
lay — Victor,  who  had  become  as  white  as  the  fields 
without,  and  as  frail  as  the  slender  birch  branches  the 
'wind  waved  before  the  window  opposite. 

The  sole  diversion  of  the  poor  being  whose  strength 
and  grace  was  thus  destroyed,  was  in  listening  to  the 
sounds  which  his  brother  Demiane  drew  from  his 
small,  hoarse  violin,  that  however  was  always  in  tune. 
Stretched  out  almost  flat  upon  his  back  with  his  waxen- 
like  hands  spread  out  on  the  coverlet,  gazing  vacantly 
into  the  gray  atmosphere  of  the  sullen  winter  time,  he 
was  entranced  by  the  strange  music  of  the  unconscious 
artist.  While  Demiane,  who  was  frowning  in  the 
earnestness  of  his  work,  was  endeavoring  with  all  his 
soul  to  render  the  mystic  sweetness  of  the  church 
h3rmns,  and  with  the  audacity  of  those  who  know 
nothing,  was  trying  to  find  the  thirds  and  fifths  of 
chords  that  he  heard  within  himself  without  imagining 
that  it  was  a  master  stroke,  and  would  begin  again  and 
again,  until  he  had  acquired  the  softness  he  sought, 
Victor  dreamed  of  a  thousand  sweet  things  that  were 
lost  to  him. 

The  forest  was  in  the  spring-time  season ;  the  lilies- 


36  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

of-the-valley  grew  by  thousands  in  the  yet  short  grass ; 
the  little  plants  in  the  form  of  a  thyrsus,  which  smell 
like  orange  blossoms  and  possess  an  incomparable 
beauty,  carpeted  the  hollows  where  roots  of  pine 
trees  had  formerly  grown;  the  greenfinches  chattered, 
the  blackbirds  whistled,  and  far,  far  away  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  wood,  the  cuckoo  made  its  melancholy 
call  heard  at  regular  intervals.  It  was  good  to  jump 
with  one's  feet  close  together  into  the  mossy  holes,  and 
to  bury  one's  self  up  to  one's  knees  in  the  last  autumn's 
leaves,  —  then  to  bound  up  on  the  other  side  and  run 
into  the  glades,  leaping  over  the  small  bushes  and  the 
stumps  of  trees  blown  down  by  the  winter  tempests. 
The  sun  descended  slowly  in  the  heavens,  —  sometimes 
they  forgot  to  return  home  until  suddenly  a  red  ray 
would  shine  over  the  great  pine  trees,  far,  far  away, 
half  a  mile  distant,  and  passing  ahead  of  our  young 
vagabonds,  would  shimmer  on  the  white  trunk  of  a 
birch  tree  growing  by  chance  in  the  midst  of  the  pines. 

"It  is  time  to  go  home,  De*miane,  full  time;  we  shall 
be  scolded ! " 

And  then  they  ran  harder  and  faster  and  jumped 
higher  in  the  sunbeam,  that  shone  in  a  straight  line 
towards  the  house,  giving  them  the  appearance  of  short- 
ening the  way,  but  in  reality  lengthening  it  a  little, 
and  they  would  reach  their  home  red,  heated  and  out 
of  breath,  but  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  them,  and 
the  supper  seemed  never  so  good ! 

"  More,  Demiane,  more  !  "  said  Victor  to  his  brother, 
who  had  stopped  to  try  his  E  string. 

Demiane  began  again,  and  the  dreams  began  with 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  37 

him.  It  was  in  autumn ;  the  leaves  were  already  fall- 
ing, like  gold  pieces  scattered  by  a  prodigal  hand. 
Those  who  had  guns  went  shooting,  but  Father  Kouz- 
ma's  sons  had  none.  So  they  prepared  nets,  and  decoy- 
birds,  and  went  to  spread  them  early  in  the  morning, 
so  that  the  birds  would  suspect  nothing  at  night.  It 
was  on  a  slender  branch,  slender  but  inflexible,  where 
Victor  had  placed  his  best  net.  From  below  it  could 
not  be  seen,  owing  to  the  leaves  that  grew  thick  in  the 
place.  Then  the  young  man  ventured  on  the  branch ; 
it  should  have  bent  beneath  his  weight,  but  it  did  not ; 
doubtless  the  wood  was  no  longer  full  of  sap.  All  at 
once  a  frightful  crash  was  heard  and  a  painful  moan, 
and  Victor,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  found  himself 
again  in  his  bed. 

Turning  very  pale,  he  asked  his  brother,  whose  face 
grew  dark,  "  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  I  have  broken  my  E  string,"  Demiane  answered, 
sadly.  "I  shall  be  obliged  to  do  without  one  until 
Monsieur  Roussof  returns." 

It  was  thus,  that  deprived  of  his  E  string,  De*mi- 
ane  passed  the  winter,  trying  to  replace  it  by  ingenious 
artifices,  and  with  such  strings  as  he  had,  and  learned 
to  overcome  difficulties  which  would  have  discouraged 
him  under  a  master's  eye. 

However,  Victor  did  not  soon  rise.  His  fracture  had 
been  healed  for  a  long  while,  but  an  extraordinary 
weakness  prevented  his  sitting  up  for  more  than  a  few 
minutes  at  a  time.  His  features  had  changed  their 
form,  his  face  became  pointed,  his  eyes,  which  had 
formerly  been  small  and  deep  set,  grew  strangely  large; 


38  MARKOF. 

he  was  handsomer  than  he  had  been,  but  his  beauty 
was  painful  to  behold. 

At  last  the  spring  returned;  the  Roussof  family 
arrived  a  little  earlier  than  usual,  and  the  physician 
went  to  the  priest's  house  almost  immediately  on 
leaving  his  carriage. 

The  window  of  the  boys'  room  was  open,  and  he 
turned  his  head  towards  it  and  was  surprised  to  meet 
two  black,  melancholy  eyes,  that  looked  at  him  with  an 
expression  of  sad  and  patient  waiting. 

"I  know  these  people,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and 
yet—" 

He  stepped  forward,  and  Victor's  voice,  so  weak  that 
it  seemed  to  come  from  a  spirit,  wished  him  good- 
morning. 

"  Ah !  my  poor  boy  !  "  said  he,  hastening  to  cross  the 
threshold. 

He  examined  the  young  man,  forced  him  to  rise,  and 
to  stand  up ;  the  anxious  father  and  mother  asked 
themselves  why  he  tormented  their  sick  child  thus  — 
when  he  passed  his  hand  gently  from  Victor's  neck 
down  to  his  waist. 

The  parents  stifled  a  cry. 

A  slight  protuberance  showed  itself  under  his  thin 
shirt,  and  was  shadowed  on  the  window.  With  a  look, 
Monsieur  Roussof  silenced  the  lamentations  that  were 
ready  to  burst  forth.  With  his  eyes  dilated,  his  face 
covered  with  tears,  De*miane  looked  at  his  brother  with 
an  expression  of  tenderest  pity. 

"Never  mind,  Monsieur  Roussof,"  said  the  young 
invalid.  "I  am  a  hunchback,  am  I  not?  I  have  known 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  39 

it  for  a  long  while  !  I  have  passed  my  hand  so  many 
times  down  my  back  when  I  was  alone !  And  it  hurt 
me  so  much  !  " 

After  the  first  outburst  of  grief  was  over,  Father 
Kouzma  said  to  the  physician  : 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  If  my  poor  son,  whom  may 
God  spare !  is  deformed,  he  cannot  give  himself  to  the 
Lord's  service !  The  Church  only  admits  those  of  the 
Sclavonic  clergy  who  have  no  physical  defect." 

"  Well,"  said  Monsieur  Roussof,  "  there  is  your  suc- 
cessor !  " 

He  pointed  towards  Ddnriane,  who  with  his  eyes  still 
filled  with  the  same  horror,  the  same  pity,  had  not 
stopped  looking  at  his  brother. 

"You  will  be  a  priest  in  my  place,  wrill  you  not, 
Demiane  ? "  said  Victor,  in  hts  sweet  and  plaintive 
voice.  "You  will  be  the  one  who  will  celebrate  the 
Divine  Service,  and  carry  in  your  hands  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  passing  under  the  imperial  door  that  opens  tin; 
Tabernacle?  I  have  often  thought  of  that,  brother, 
and,  do  you  know?  I  have  almost  not  regretted  my 
accident,  thinking  that  you  are  handsomer,  stronger 
and  cleverer  than  I  have  ever  been." 

"Do  you  wish  to  be  a  priest?"  asked  Monsieur 
Roussof,  laying  his  hand,  affectionately,  on  the  young 
man's  curly  hair. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  the  latter  replied.  "  Could  I  play 
on  the  violin  ?  " 

At  this  question,  which  Father  Kouzma's  theology 
had  not  foreseen,  each  looked  at  the  other,  a  little  sur- 
prised and  much  troubled  to  find  an  answer. 


40  MAEKOF. 

"  Why  not?  "  Monsieur  Roussof  said  at  last.  "  King 
David  certainly  danced  before  the  Ark,  accompanying 
himself  on  different  musical  instruments.  And  besides, 
he  had  also  charmed  aAvay  King  Saul's  wrath  with  his 
harp.  I  do  not  see  that  holy  orders  should  forbid  one 
the  innocent  pleasure  of  playing  on  a  violin." 

"  I  will  be  a  priest,  then,"  De*miane  answered  in  a 
submissive  tone. 

His  father  raised  his  right  hand,  and  the  young  man 
prostrated  himself  on  his  knees  until  his  forehead 
touched  the  ground ;  the  Priest  gave  him  his  benedic- 
tion, while  his  eyes  were  wet  with  bitter  tears,  remem- 
bering the  day  he  had  thus  blessed  his  first-born.  But 
he  had  learned  resignation  since  the  sad  autumn  days. 
The  mother  also  blessed  her  son,  then  Victor  made  a 
sign  to  his  brother  to  approach  him. 

"They  gave  me  at  the  Theological  Seminary  some 
holy  images  to  bring  me  happiness  in  my  career ;  here, 
take  them,  they  must  belong  to  you." 

He  passed  around  his  brother's  neck  a  little  silken 
cord,  that  held  several  small  medals  and  crosses,  and 
embraced  him  three  times,  then  let  himself  fall  back  on 
his  pillows,  with  the  happy  and  weary  air  of  conva- 
lescents. 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  he,  "  very  glad !  De*miane  will  be 
the  man  of  the  family.  I  would  never  have  been  any- 
thing but  a  stupid  fellow." 

And  his  kind,  full  eyes,  that  were  spiritualized  by 
suffering,  beamed  on  his  brother  in  a  blessing  as  tender, 
—  tenderer  —  than  that  of  their  mother. 


MARKOF.  41 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    STORM. 

"  A  RE  you  going  to  the  Theological  Seminary,  then  ?  " 
JLJL  Benjamin  Roussof  asked  De'miane,  who  was  try- 
ing to  make  a  sort  of  rustic  guitar  out  of  white  wood. 
"  Do  you  believe  they  will  permit  you  to  play  music  ? 
Are  you  going  to  take  your  balalaika?" 

The  young  boy  contemplated  the  work  of  his  cun- 
ning hands,  and  then  began  to  cut  the  wood  with  his 
knife  again. 

"  I  do  not  know  anything  about  it,"  said  he ;  "  if  I 
cannot  take  it  I  will  give  it  to  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  young  Roussof,  with  an  energetic 
sign  of  his  head.  "  I  felt  sure  you  would  give  it  to  me. 
And  your  brother,  has  he  one  also  ?" 

"  No.  Victor  is  very  fond  of  music  when  I  play  it, 
but  he  does  not  know  how  to  play  himself." 

"  What  does  he  do  to  amuse  himself  then  ?  " 

"  He  listens  to  me." 

Benjamin  looked  as  though  he  thought  that  was  not 
sufficient.  He  would  not  have  left  a  new  balalaika 
sleeping  on  its  nail!  Though  he  should  have  drawn 
the  most  inharmonious  sounds  from  it,  he  would  have 
persecuted  it  without  mercy,  taking,  as  far  as  the  sounds 
went,  their  quantity  for  their  quality.  He  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  small  paper  package,  which  he  showed 
mysteriously  to  his  comrade. 


42  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"Do  you  know  what  this  is?"  said  he,  with  an 
important  air. 

"  No.     It  is  very  small." 

"Guess!" 

"  Let  me  feel  of  it  a  little."  He  held  out  his  two 
fingers,  broke  the  paper,  and  crimson  with  delight  he 
exclaimed,  "  Strings  !  " 

"  Yes,  strings,  some  new  strings  for  your  violin." 

"  I  just  broke  my  E  string  during  Lent !  "  said  De*mi- 
ane,  still  overcome  with  joy.  "  Oh !  well,  if  I  can  take 
my  balalaika  with  me,  I  will  make  another  one  for  you 
alone.  How  did  you  think  of  this  ?  " 

"  It  was  papa ;  I  asked  him  what  I  should  bring  you 
as  a  present  for  this  vacation.  I  am  not  rich,  you  know. 
I  could  not  spend  more  than  thirty  kopecks  ;  he  told  me 
that  violin  strings  would  give  you  more  pleasure  than 
anything  in  the  world." 

"  Your  father  is  good,"  Demiane  said  gravely. 

He  reflected  for  a  moment,  then  he  began  to  make 
chips  of  wood  with  greater  activity. 

It  was  very  hot.  The  middle  of  July  almost  always 
brings  thunderstorms,  which  the  vulgar  say  is  on 
account  of  the  chariot  of  the  Prophet  Elias  rolling  in 
the  heavens  on  the  occasion  of  his  feast-day,  which 
falls  on  the  18th  of  the  month ;  the  air  was  heavy,  and 
if  our  young  people  did  not  perceive  it,  Victor,  who 
had  hardly  recovered  from  his  terrible  fall  sufficiently 
to  hold  himself  up  and  walk  with  the  aid  of  a  stick, 
felt  wholly  prostrated.  Lying  in  the  grass  two  steps 
away  from  his  comrades,  under  the  protecting  shelter  of 
an  enormous  birch  tree  that  stood  alone  on  the  lawn  of 


MARKOF.  43 

the  seigneurial  garden,  he  seemed  to  be  seeking  coolness 
even  from  the  turf,  and  plunged  his  face  into  the  thick 
tufts  of  hardy  grass. 

uAnd  you,  Victor,"  continued  Benjamin,  who  did 
not  know  how  to  remain  silent  for  a  minute,  "what 
will  you  do  while  your  brother  is  away  ?  " 

"  I  will  await  his  return,"  answered  Victor,  who  was 
always  resigned.  "  He  waited  for  me  formerly  when  it 
was  I  who  went  to  the  Theological  Seminary." 

"And  Paracha?  what  does  she  say  to  this  change?" 

Prascovie  Markof,  thus  familiarly  called  by  the 
diminutive  of  her  name,  was  but  little  occupied  \vith 
what  took  place  around  her.  She  was  a  young  girl, 
nineteen  years  old,  serious,  positive,  and  absorbed  in 
calculations  and  hopes  known  only  to  herself,  and  who 
had  but  one  idea  in  the  world:  to  marry  as  advanta- 
geously as  possible.  Unfortunately,  her  father  had  no 
dowry  to  give  her,  and  girls  without  dowries  are  dilli- 
cult  to  marry  in  all  European  latitudes,  and  even 
in  some  others. 

"  Paracha  says  nothing  at  all ;  it  is  all  the  same  to 
her.  She  sews  on  her  chemises,"  Demiane  answered. 

Benjamin  remained  thoughtful.  To  make  oneself 
chemises  seemed  to  him  not  a  very  lofty  aim,  but 
perhaps  he  was  not  well  informed  as  regards  the 
mysteries  of  a  trousseau.  He  was  not  aware  that.  t«> 
sew  the  linen  she  would  take  to  her  husband's  house,  a 
priest's  daughter  would  willingly  pass  more  than  two- 
thirds  of  her  days  at  the  occupation. 

A  tall  young  girl,  about  twenty  years  of  age,  crossed 
the  lawn  and  approached  the  young  men. 


44  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  Mamma  asks  if  you  would  like  to  play  a  little 
music  ?  "  she  said  to  Demiane. 

Her  pleasant  look  and  smile  were  addressed  rather 
to  Victor  than  his  brother.  The  Roussof  children 
were  full  of  goodness,  like  their  parents,  arid  their 
compassionate  kindness  was  given  more  particularly  to 
the  poor  invalid  since  the  accident. 

"  Let  us  go ! "  exclaimed  Demiane,  who  ran  on 
ahead  with  Benjamin,  while  Mademoiselle  Roussof 
walked  more  slowly  by  Victor's  side,  who  still  pain- 
fully dragged  himself  along  with  the  aid  of  a  stick. 

As  they  approached  the  drawing-room,  the  well- 
known  chords  of  a  sonata  for  the  piano  and  violin 
reached  their  ears,  and  they  stopped  to  listen. 

Demiane  played  on  his  miserable  instrument  with 
astonishing  skill  and  ease.  His  fantastic  fingering 
little  heeded  the  rules  of  art ;  many  notes  would  not 
have  found  grace  in  a  master's  ear,  but  a  wild,  fierce, 
passionate  feeling  carried  the  youthful  musician  far 
beyond  this  real  world,  the  poor  piano,  the  bad 
violin,  the  music  that  was  difficult  to  read  and  difficult 
to  execute.  After  stumbling  through  ten  measures,  a 
melodious  phrase  issued  forth.  Demiane  gathered  it 
up  with  the  end  of  his  bow  and  carried  it  to  heights 
where  the  composer  himself  would  not  have  disdained 
applauding  it  as  it  passed. 

"  Let  us  sit  down  here ;  we  will  hear  just  as  well, 
and  it  is  not  so  warm,"  said  Mademoiselle  Roussof, 
pointing  to  a  bench  placed  under  the  drawing-room 
windows. 

They  sat  down  in  silence  and  listened  for  a  long 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  j .", 

while.  Sometimes,  when  the  discord  between  the  two 
instruments  rose  to  a  veritable  quarrel.  Madame  R<>us- 
sof  stopped  short. — "Let  us  begin  again,"  she  would 
say  in  her  tranquil  voice  ;  and  Ddmiune,  calmed  by  her 
coolness,  took  up  the  confusing  page  and  unravelled  it 
slowly. 

It  was  these  patient  lessons  that  had  formed  the 
growing  talent  of  the  young  boy.  Without  them,  he 
would  only  have  been  a  common  violinist.  Thanks  to 
this  half-maternal  education,  he  felt  himself  becoming 
an  artist,  while  at  the  same  time  his  character  became 
softened,  and  his  manners  grew,  little  by  little,  superior 
to  those  of  the  people  about  him. 

Agrippine  Roussof,  whom  her  relations  and  friends 
familiarly  called  Groucha,  turned  towards  her  pitiable 
companion. 

"  He  gets  on  well,"  said  she,  smiling. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Victor  said  timidly,  while 
answering  her  smile. 

"He  has  made  great  progress  since  last  summer. 
He  has  the  making  of  an  artist  in  him.'' 

Victor's  eyes  gleamed  with  pride,  but  the  light  died 
out  of  his  look,  and  he  sighed. 

"  Of  what  use  will  it  be  to  him  when  he  is  a  pri. 
he  asked  sadty. 

"It  is  always  of  use,  were  it  only  on  aeeonnt  of  the 
beautiful  thoughts  to  which  music  gives  birth.     Does 
it  not  seem  to  you  at  times  that  it  is  like  a  pr 
And  at  church  would  one  pray  half  as  well   if  the 
choristers  did  not  sing  hymns  ?  " 

"Yes,  certainly,"  Victor  answered  with  some  h- 


46  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

tion ;   "  singing   is   allowed ;   but  the  violin  —  I  never 
heard  of  a  priest  who  played  on  the  violin." 

"  Well,  Demiane  will  be  the  first ! "    Groucha  said 

gayly. 

If  this  amiable  girl  had  chosen  a  motto,  she  would 
certainly  have  raised  on  her  flag  :  "  All  for  the  best !  " 
But  her  optimism  did  not  limit  itself  to  declaring  that 
everything  was  perfect  under  the  moon's  rays ;  she 
toiled  unceasingly  with  her  heart  and  her  agile  hands, 
to  improve  what  she  called  excellent,  aided  by  her 
parents  whose  broad  views  and  abundant  charity  knew 
no  bounds  except  in  the  comparative  smallness  of  their 
revenue ;  she  had  -thus  become  a  tangible,  smiling  and 
peaceful  providence,  from  whom  emanated  a  comfort- 
ing atmosphere  on  all  human  beings,  great  or  small, 
who  suffered  near  her. 

Victor,  seeing  her  absorbed  in  listening  to  a  favorite 
adagio,  ventured  to  raise  his  eyes  to  her  white  face, 
which  was  more  touching  than  beautiful,  more  amiable 
than  regular,  and  whose  principal  charm  lay  in  the 
brightness  of  two  dark-grey  eyes,  which  were  soft  and 
luminous,  and  which — one  knew  not  why — made  one, 
in  the  young  girl's  presence,  think  of  the  pictures  of 
Charity  holding  two  children  in  her  arms. 

The  calm  face,  the  cheeks  tinted  with  a  delicate  rose- 
color,  the  lovely  form,  neither  too  slender  nor  too  stout, 
but  as  pleasant  to  the  eye  as  a  May  morning,  had 
•always  presided  over  Victor's  destiny.  When  he  was 
very  young  and  not  behaving  well,  they  threatened  not 
to  allow  him  to  play  with  Mademoiselle  Roussof. 

The  latter,  who  was  as  grave  as  an  Infanta,  would — 


MARK  OF.  47 

thanks  to  her  three  years'  superiority  over  the  compan- 
ion of  her  plays — preach  him  a  little  sermon  and  accept 
with  a  dignified  air  the  promises  he  made  her  not  to  do 
so  any  more,  and  it  would  all  end  in  a  little  lunch,  and 
not  a  few  preserves. 

It  was  thus,  by  a  moral,  as  well  as  material  ascend- 
ency, that  Groucha  had  a  great  influence  over  her 
young  friend's  life.  He  respected  her  to  that  degree, 
that  he  called  her  Mademoiselle  Roussof  when  alone 
and  had  never  allowed  himself  to  address  her  by  the 
name  of  Groucha,  since  he  was  six  or  seven  years  old. 
He  hardly  knew  by  what  name  to  call  the  feeling  he 
had  for  her:  the  deep  and  confiding  tenderness,  the 
security  when  near  her,  the  discouragement  when  she 
was  away;  but  why  give  a  name  to  such  delicious 
impressions?  In  naming  them  we  take  away  that 
which  is  the  velvet  of  the  peach,  or  the  satin  of  the 
jasmine's  white  petals.  Such  things  are  felt,  are  di- 
vined, and  are  not  expressed.  One  day,  however, 
before  the  accident  had  blighted  his  life,  a  sort  of  light 
illumined  Victor's  soul,  and  might  have  revealed  to 
him,  had  he  wished  it,  something  more  positive^"  His 
father  and  mother  were  talking  about  his  future,  of  the 
sacrifices  he  cost  them,  and  quite  naturally  the  future 
marriage  of  the  young  aspirant  to  apostleship  came  up. 

"Must  I  marry?"  asked  Victor,  rather  suddenly. 

"You  have  known  you  must  from  your  cradle!"  his 
mother  replied.  "  One  would  say  that  you  thought  of 
it  now  for  the  first  time  in  your  life." 

"  They  have  spoken  to  me,"  said  she,  turning  towards 
Father  Kouzma,  "  of  the  priest  of  Bdresovka's  second 


48  MARK  OF. 

daughter;  she  will  have  money,  and  she  is  only  eleven 
years  old.  We  must  put  ourselves  on  a  good  footing 
with  those  people,  so  that  the  marriage  will  arrange 
itself,  when  our  boy  will  have  reached  the  proper 
age." 

Victor  did  not  answer,  but  allowed  his  parents  to 
discuss  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  the  bar- 
gain. For  it  was  nothing  else.  A  great  repugnance 
had  suddenly  seized  him  at  the  thought  of  that  girl 
eleven  years  of  age,  whom  he  did  not  know,  whom  no 
one  of  his  family  knew,  but  of  whom  they  had  talked 
as  of  something  to  be  bought.  His  repugnance 
extended  even  to  the  idea  of  marriage  itself,  and  as 
he  was  a  thoughtful  fellow,  he  asked  himself  what 
was  the  cause  of  this  new  and  extraordinary  feeling. 

"  To  leave  this  parish !  "  said  he  to  himself,  with  his 
heart  wrung  at  the  thought ;  "  that  will  be  hard  !  " 

Then  he  said  to  himself,  that  he  would  not  be  obliged 
to  leave  the  parish,  for,  on  the  contrary,  he  could  bring 
his  young  wife  there. 

"  If  she  should  displease  the  Roussof  family !  "  he 
thought  with  a  slight  shiver. 

He  seemed  to  see  Mademoiselle  Roussof  s  grey  eyes 
turn  away  from  the  bride  with  the  calm  disdain  that 
expressed  her  great  dissatisfaction. 

"Never!"  said  he  to  himself;  " never  a  wife  that 
would  displease  Mademoiselle  Roussof." 

Instead  of  fathoming  this  dangerous  problem,  he 
gave  himself  up  to  hunting  small  birds,  which,  alas ! 
turned  out  no  better  with  him,  and  ever  since,  it  was 
with  a  joyful  feeling  that  he  saw  the  honors  and 


MARKOF.  49 

prosperity  belonging  to  the  eldest  of  the  family  p;i 
his  brother. 

"I  shall  not  marry  the  priest  of  Bdresovka's  daugh- 
ter," he  had  said  to  himself;  "I  will  not  many  at  all ! 
Who  would  wish  an  ugly  hunchback  like  myself?" 

And  these  reflections,  far  from  saddening  him, 
brought  a  new  serenity  into  his  existence.  Ji 
therefore,  with  a  feeling  of  modesty  and  timidity, 
which  was  quite  natural  for  him  in  regard  to  so  im- 
portant a  person,  that  he  raised  his  eyes  on  Groudia 
and  gave  himself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  contemplating 
her  sweet  and  restful  face.  But  she  did  not  perc<i\c 
Victor's  admiration ;  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  a  cluster  of 
white  rose-bushes,  which  certainly  she  did  not  see.  >h«' 
dreamed  as  she  listened  to  the  adagio,  and  her  rev«-rv 
took  a  melancholy  color,  for  her  mouth  grew  sad,  and 
her  chestnut  colored  eye-lashes  drooped  on  her  t-1. 
which  had  become  slightly  pale. 

"It  is  beautiful,  is  it  not?"  said  Victor  in  a  low 
voice,  who  would  have  made  any  sacrifice  to  have 
restored  its  wonted  expression  to  her  face. 

She  answered  by  a  movement  of  her  head  and  re- 
mained silent,  absorbed  by  her  inner  vision.  The 
rolling  of  distant  thunder  stilled  for  an  in-tant  a 
delicate  pianissimo  executed  indoors  on  the  two  in- 
struments, then  the  music  continued  loudly. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of,  Mademoiselle?"  said 
Victor,  incapable  of  keeping  the  question  to  himself 
any  longer. 

She  blushed  slightly,  then  smiled. 

"  Of  a  thousand  things  far  away,"  she  said. 
3 


50  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

••    "Faraway?" 

She  pointed  with  her  hand  to  the  threatening  clouds 
which  were  moving  to  wards' them  rapidly. 

"  Farther  away  than  the  storm,"  she  said,  with  the 
same  slightly  melancholy  smile. 

The  rolling  of  the  thunder  approached,  and  its  last 
echo  seemed  to  die  over  the  house. 

"They  are  playing  the  piano,"  said  Victor  a  little 
nervously,  "shall  we  not  tell  them  that  it  thunders? 
Perhaps  they  do  not  hear  it  ?  " 

"  The  storm  may  pass,"  said  Groucha,  "  let  us  wait  a 
little." 

The  sonata  continued  within  doors ;  but  Victor,  who 
was  disquieted,  opened  and  shut  his  feverish  hands. 
A  universal  superstition  in  Russia,  which  is  found 
among  the  highest  classes  as  well  as  the  lowest,  forbids 
the  playing  of  music  during  a  thunder  storm ;  it  would 
seem  as  though  the  audacious  performer  wished  to 
brave  the  thunderbolts  and  battle  with  the  power 
which  God  manifests  in  them.  The  Roussof  family 
did  not  share  this  prejudice,  but  they  yielded  to  it,  that 
they  might  not  shock  their  inferiors,  or  even  their 
equals,  who  were  not  so  free  as  themselves  from  the 
fetters  of  a  thousand  superstitious  beliefs. 

A  violet-colored  gleam  of  lightning  dazzled  the  eyes 
of  our  friends,  and  made  them  rise  suddenly  from  their 
rustic  seat,  while  the  noise  of  the  thunder  deafened 
them.  They  put  their  hands  to  their  ears  and  entered 
the  drawing-room  as  quickly  as  possible,  where  Madame 
Roussof  and  Demiane  were  resuming  their  allegro  that 
had  been  interrupted  by  all  the  noise.  Only,  as  the 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  51 

sky  had  become  very  dark,  they  had  lighted  candles, 
and  it  was  by  this  artificial  light  that  they  were 
tinuing  their  practising. 

"Mamma,"  said  Groucha,  gently,  with  a  smile  that 
made  excuses  for  all  weaknesses  and  brought  h< -r 
mother  back  to  the  necessity  of  making  every  possible 
concession  to  them,  "  it  thunders  very  hard." 

"D&iiiane,"  said  Victor,  still  trembling  with  emo- 
tion and  a  little  anger  at  the  sight  of  his  younger 
brother's  coolness,  "it  thunders!  ho \v  can  you  play  on 
the  violin?  " 

"We  will  wait  till  the  storm  is  over,"  said  Madame 
Roussof,  rising  quietly,  "and  then  we  will  begin  again." 

"How  tiresome! "  grumbled  Ddmiane,  vexed  at  find- 
ing himself  interrupted  in  the  ardor  of  his  work  ;  "  \\  hat 
difference  can  it  make  whether  it  thunders  or  not?" 

"  It  is  the  prophet  Elias  driving  about  up  there ! " 
said  Monsieur  Roussof,  who  entered  the  room;  for  the 
result  of  a  thunder-storm  is  to  gather  into  one  room  all 
the  inhabitants  of  a  house,  impelled  absolutely  by  the 
same  feeling  as  sheep,  which  huddle  together  at  t lie- 
first  flash  of  lightning. 

"What  is  the  prophet  Elias  to  me?"  growled  tho 
young  rebel. 

"Oh!    Ddmiane!"    exclaimed    Victor,    thoron 
shocked.     Another  flash  of  lightning,   less  vivid   than 
the  others,  traversed  the  darkened  sky.  and  even  cue 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  excepting  Monsieur  ' 
who    continued  throwing   over  the   company  his  calm 
and  rather  mocking  glance ;  then  they  waited  a  little 
longer,  and  the  storm  seeming  to  be  taking  flight,  the 


52  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

.musicians  went  to  the  piano,  and  the  sonata  began 
again,  but  Victor  did  not  take  the  same  pleasure  in 
listening,  nor  the  others  in  executing  it.  After  one 
piece  all  said  they  were  tired,  and  returned  to  their 
occupations. 

While  Victor,  with  his  brother,  was  going  to  their 
humble  little  house,  reproaching  him  in  regard  to  his 
indifference  about  the  thunder,  Monsieur  Roussof 
stopped  his  wife  as  she  was  on  her  way  to  glance  into 
the  kitchen. 

"  If  that  Demiane  is  ever  a  priest,"  said  he,  "  I  know 
some  one  who  will  be  very  much  surprised." 

"Don't  you  think  he  has  a  fitness  for  it?"  asked 
Madame  Roussof,  without  appearing  astonished.  They 
were  never  astonished  at  anything  in  that  family. 

Monsieur  Roussof  laughed  silently,  and  concluded 
by  saying,  by  way  of  peroration  to  a  speech  that  he 
kept  to  himself : 

"  They  both  have  missed  their  calling :  Victor  in  not 
being  a  priest,  and  De'miane  in  preparing  himself  to 
become  one.  But  the  young  rogue  has  not  yet  made 
his  vows,  and  the  ways  of  Providence  are  impenetrable." 

"  And  do  you  feel  inclined  to  prevent  it  ?  "  Madame 
Roussof  asked. 

Her  husband  nodded  his  head  affirmatively;  after 
which  they  exchanged  a  smile,  and  turning  away  from 
each  other  went  to  their  different  duties. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  63 

CHAPTER    V. 

AT     THE     THEOLOGICAL     SEMINARY. 

DKMAINE  however  entered  the  Theological  Sem- 
inary and  passed  a  whole  scholastic  year.  I  It- 
had  taken  a  few  books  and  his  precious  violin  in  his 
trunk  with  him,  but  in  the  rare  letters  which  he  wrote 
to  hisparents-he  spoke  of  neither  the  one  nor  the  other; 
in  truth,  the  fate  of  these  things  interested  the  I1 
and  his  wife  infinitely  less  than  that  of  the  shirts  and 
stockings  which  they  must  very  soon  replace. 

The  year  ended,  Ddmiane  returned,  and  every  one 
found  him  very  much  changed.  His  youthful  gfi 
only  returned  by  fits  and  starts,  his  eharaeter  had 
become  sad,  like  his  face.  He  had  not  been  able  to 
bend  his  body  to  the  sedate  walk  of  his  comrades ;  from 
being  brusque  and  impetuous,  he  had  become  awkward 
and  ungainly. 

"They  have  not  made  him  handsomer  for  us,"  said 
Madame  lluussof  to  her  husband,  after  the  young  man 
made  his  first  visit  on  his  return. 

"He  is  at  the  awkward  age,"  replied  the  philosopher. 

"He  is  seventeen  and  a  half  years  old,  he  ought  not 
to  be  so  clumsy.     What  will  he  do  with  his  ; 
legs  next  year,  if  this  year  he  is  alread\  so  embarrassed 
by  them?" 

"God  will  see  to  it!"  replied  the  skeptical  physician. 
"And  his  music  —  did  you  talk  togeih.-r  ftbonl 


54  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  He  acted  as  though  he  did  not  care  to  speak  of  it. 
I  believe  a  drama  has  taken  place  at  the  Seminary." 

"  Make  him  tell  you  about  it ! " 

"  He  would  not,  but  Groucha  will  try  and  draw  it 
out  from  Victor." 

"  Power  of  machiavelism  ! "  said  Roussof,  quietly. 
"  When  you  have  learned  it  you  will  tell  it  to  me." 

"Of  course." 

Alas !  in  fact,  a  drama  had  been  played  at  the  Sem- 
inary. First,  Ddmiane's  books  had  disappeared  without 
returning,  because  all  profane  reading  was  useless  in 
a  place  that  is  wholly  consecrated  to  the  study  of 
holy  works.  The  young  man  would  have  consoled 
himself  for  this  misfortune,  had  not  a  graver  one 
followed. 

After  being  here  a  while,  De*miane,  finding  one  day 
that  he  had  an  hour  of  freedom,  went  to  his  cell  and 
unpacked  his  precious  violin ;  after  tuning  it,  he 
hastened  to  assure  himself  that  he  had  lost  none  of  his 
good  or  bad  qualities. 

To  put  himself  in  harmony  with  the  walls  of  so 
venerable  a  place,  he  began  by  playing  a  church  hymn ; 
immediately  the  curious  heads  of  his  comrades  appeared 
at  the  door  of  the  corridor. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  the  boldest  asked. 

"  I  am  playing  the  violin,  as  you  see." 

"  Has  the  Father  Superior  allowed  you  to  do  so  ?  " 

"No.     Must  I  get  permission  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

A  Father  Inspector  arrived  in  the  meanwhile  and  the 
same  dialogue  was  repeated,  word  for  word. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  55 

A  little  astonished,  the  Father  Inspector  went  to  the 
Father  Superior,  and  reported  what  he  had  just  seen 
and  heard.  The  latter  meditated  and  implored  the 
light  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Now,  every  one  knows  that  the  Holy  Spirit  never 
refuses  its  light  to  those  who  implore  it,  and  the  reason 
of  this  condescension  is  easy  to  be  understood;  cadi 
one  imploring  help  from  on  high  for  his  inner  conscience, 
is  the  sole  judge  in  regard  to  the  moment  chosen  by  the 
light  to  appear ;  he  applies  that  to  his  theories  and  his 
needs;  and  afterwards  thanks  Providence,  who  has, 
however,  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  It  is  thus  that  the 
thing  is  done  in  all  latitudes,  and  even  in  all  the  longi- 
tudes that  have  been  explored  up  to  the  present,  from 
the  Red  Skin,  who  consults  his  Manitou,  to  the  Rev- 
erend Father  Superior  of  the  Seminary  of  Z. 

When  this  worthy  personage  had  received  from 
Heaven  the  additional  light  for  which  he  had  asked,  or 
imagined  that  he  had  received  it  —  which  is  exactly  tin; 
same  thing — he  sent  for  the  scholar  Ddmiane  :  "With 
the  thing  which  he  has  introduced  into  our  establish- 
ment," added  the  good  man. 

D^maine  and  "  the  thing  "  arrived,  one  carrying  the 
other,  and  the  following  dialogue  astonished  the  walls 
of  the  Seminary : 

"  What  is  that?"  asked  the  Superior. 

"  Reverend  Father,  it  is  my  violin." 

"  What  do  you  do  with  it?" 

"  I  play  it." 

The  Reverend  Father  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  he. 


56  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

Demiane  let  him  "see  it,"  or  rather  hear  it,  and 
played  —  for  he  was  cunning  —  a  pious  hymn,  with  all 
desirable  unction  and  slowness. 

"  Hem  ! "  said  the  Superior,  caressing  his  beard. 
"Hem  !  that's  not  bad.  Who  gave  it  to  you?" 

"  Monsieur  Roussof,  the  lord  of  our  village." 

"  A  nobleman  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Reverend  Father,  a  nobleman." 

"  Is  he  in  the  service  of  the  Government  ? 

"  No,  Reverend  Father,  he  is  a  physician." 

"  Ah !  he  is  a  physician,  and  he  gave  you  that  ?  " 

Ddmiane  thought  that  the  Reverend  Father  Superior 
hid  his  light  under  a  thick  layer  of  real  humility  or 
pretended  ignorance,  unless  the  adjective  of  the  one 
might  pass  to  the  other,  interchangeably,  but  he  kept  a 
respectful  silence. 

"  It  is  with  violins  that  they  make  people  dance,  do 
they  not?  "  the  Superior  asked. 

"Yes,  my  Reverend  Father,  and  with  many  other 
instruments  also." 

"  Hem  !  "  said  the  dignitary,  "  that  may  be.  But  the 
violin  is  not  a  canonical  instrument,  it  cannot  be  found 
mentioned  in  the  Scriptures.  Now,  the  trumpet  can 
be  found  in  them;  it  was  to  the  sound  of  trumpets 
that  the  walls  of  Jericho  fell ;  the  harp  is  a  canonical 
instrument;  holy  King  David  held  it  in  affection 
during  the  whole  course  of  his  existence ;  but  nowhere 
is  there  mention  made  of  the  violin." 

Demiane  listened,  and  clasped  to  his  heart  the  unca- 
nonical  instrument,  knowing  it  was  in  danger. 

"  Do  not  touch  that  instrument  again  as  long  as  you 


MARK  OF.  57 

remain  among  us,"  continued  the  Superior,  "and  more- 
over, I  beg  you  will  place  it  in  my  hands.  When  you 
return  to  your  family,  I  will  return  it  to  you;  at 
present  it  could  only  divert  you  from  your  studies  and 
the  destiny  that  awaits  you." 

De'miane,  who  was  excited  by  the  greatness  of  the 
danger,  avoided  it  by  a  stroke  of  genius. 

"  I  am  ready  to  obey,  my  Reverend  Father,"  said  h»>. 
"But  permit  me  to  show  you  that  all  the  noise  of 
my  violin  resides  in  these  strings  here.  I  will  give 
you  the  strings,  but,  I  implore  you,  permit  me  to  kn-p 
the  violin ! " 

While  he  was  speaking  he  removed  the  strings  and 
laid  them  before  the  Superior. 

"  Why  do  you  value  that  piece  of  wood  so  highly  ?  " 
asked  the  latter,  frowning  suspiciously. 

De'miane  blushed,  for  he  was  about  to  say  something 
not  quite  true,  feeling  that  he  must  save  his  dear 
treasure. 

"Excuse  me,  my  Reverend  Father,"  said  ho,  u  when 
my  brother  was  very  ill  I  played  church  hymns  to 
him  ;  he  could  not  assist  at  the  divine  service,  and  my 
violin  gave  him  pleasure  ;  it  was  his  only  consolation." 

The  excellent  man  was  touched  by  this  very  -imple 
plea. 

"  Keep  the  wood,"  said  he,  "and  give  me  the  strings. 
But  you  must  not  be  heard  again  !  " 

"That  cannot  be,  since  I  leave  the  strings  with 
Your  Grace,"  the  happy  Demiane  said  hypocritically. 

He  received  His  Grace's  benediction,  and  hurried  to 
his  cell.  At  night,  when  all  in  the  Seminary  were 


58  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

snoring,  he  took  from  a  hiding-place  the  strings  Benja- 
min Roussof  had  given  him,  and  adjusted  them  to  his 
violin,  then  he  made  them  sound  under  his  sheets,  with 
his  head  buried  under  the  bed-clothes,  at  the  risk  of 
smothering. 

He  kept  his  treasure,  but  he  could  not  make  use  of 
it.  This  punishment  of  Tantalus  made  him  morose. 
Then,  one  day  when  he  was  alone,  he  thought  of  run- 
ning his  fingers  over  the  strings,  without  using  his  bow. 
Playing  in  this  mute  way,  he  acquired  great  dexterity 
in  fingering,  and  his  memory  being  no  longer  guided 
by  his  ear,  developed  in  an  extraordinary  manner. 

But  he  disliked  everything  at  the  Seminary ;  he  had 
entered  it  too  late  not  to  observe  the  faults  in  that 
kind  of  education,  and  moreover,  having  grown  up  in 
full  liberty,  like  a  wild  colt,  the  rein  and  curb  of  the 
rules  seemed  intolerable  to  him. 

The  foundation  of  resignation,  that  among  Russians 
accompanies  the  most  seeming,  and  even  the  most  real 
lack  of  discipline,  made  De'miane  endure  things  that 
would  have  caused  a  Frenchman  to  jump  over  the 
walls  without  delay;  but  when  he  returned  to  his 
home  he  carried  with  him  a  sort  of  sullen  resolve  not 
to  endure  any  longer  what  so  displeased  him.  This 
resolution  was  not  of  the  kind  one  announces  to  one's 
father  on  a  lovely  evening  after  dinner.  It  needed 
precautions,  and  above  all  allies.  The  precautions  to 
be  taken  were  not  impossible,  in  spite  of  Ddmiane's 
inexperience,  but  as  to  the  allies,  where  should  he  find 
them  ?  The  young  man's  heart  beat  fast  the  first  time 
he  touched  upon  the  subject  with  his  father. 


MARK  OF.  59 

The  evening  was  a  superb  one,  and  the  moon  was 
reflected  in  the  pond  in  a  way  that  would  have  satisfied 
all  the  poets  of  the  globe.  The  frogs,  which  are  as 
necessary  to  a  Russian  pond  as  are  the  banks  that 
surround  it,  were  croaking  with  that  admirable  unitv 
with  which  all  are  familiar.  Do  frogs  understand  BO 
much  as,  or  more  than  modern  musicians  in  regard  to 
composition  and  the  science  of  music?  From  the 
earliest  antiquity  these  harmonious  musicians  have  com- 
bined their  solos  and  their  choruses  with  a  cleverness 
and  elegance  that  very  few  operas  manifest  now-a-days. 
Was  it  not  the  poised  measure  of  their  nightly  hymns 
that  inspired  the  Greek  tragic  writers  with  the  refrains 
of  their  choruses  and  the  rhythmed  plaints  of  their 
master  works  ?  I  defy  any  one  who  has  listened  on  a 
beautiful  summer's  night  to  the  croaking  of  a  lonely 
frog,  who  is  soon  accompanied  by  a  formidable 
orchestra,  with  eloquent  pianos  and  crescendo*  that 
are  full  of  majesty,  not  to  think  of  some  chef-d'oeuvre 
of  modern  art,  such  as  the  Benediction  des  poignards — 
(all  proper  proportion  being  kept,  of  course,  and  in 
this  comparison  all  due  respect  being  paid). 

D^miane's  soul  was  full  of  secret  anguish;  tho 
strange,  almost  unhealthy  friendship  that  his  brother 
had  for  him,  made  him  hope  for  his  efficient  aid.  liuf, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  saw  in  Victor  weaknesses  and 
terrors,  that  were  due,  doubtless,  to  his  early  edneatinn, 
and  from  which  he  had  freed  himself,  one  cannot  tell 
how,  unless  by  living  almost  always  alone  in  the  wmuls 
and  the  rest  of  the  time  with  his  dear  violin. 

"  Do  you  love  me  ? "  said  he,  as  he  clasped  his  arm 


60  MAKKOF. 

around  the  invalid's  neck,  while  they  were  sitting  on  a 
bench,  at  the  end  of  their  father's  garden,  close  to  the 
grassy  banks  of  the  pond. 

"  Do  I  love  you !  Ah !  my  poor  Demiane,  I  can  only 
say,  that  I  have  scarcely  lived  all  winter ;  I  remember 
nothing  since  you  went  away  to  the  Seminary." 

The  young  scholar  clasped  his  brother  affectionately 
in  his  arms. 

"You  would  not  like  to  see  me  unhappy,  would 
you?" 

"  Certainly  not !  but  why  should  you  be  unhappy  ?  " 

Ddmiane  drew  himself  up,  then  with  a  firm  voice, 
that  was  moderated  designedly,  said: 

"  Victor,  I  do  not  wish  to  be  a  priest." 

His  brother  suddenly  trembled,  and  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross. 

"You  —  you  are  out  of  your  mind,  Demiane.  What 
did  you  say?" 

"I  do  not  wish  to  be,  and  I  will  not  be  a  priest," 
Demiane  repeated  with  the  same  firmness. 

"May  God  and  all  the  Saints  protect  us!  The 
evil  spirit  has  turned  your  head !  Come  back  to  your- 
self, brother  I  Why  should  you  wish  to  resist  God's 
will?" 

"It  is  not  God's  will  that  I  should  be  a  priest, 
Victor,  or  else  He  would  never  have  put  into  my  heart 
this  mad  love  for  music,  or  else  moreover  the  Fathers 
at  the  Seminary  would  not  have  forbidden  my  playing 
the  violin.  If  they  had  permitted  me  to  play,  I 
would  perhaps  have  been  a  good  priest,  no  worse  than 
any  other,  —  but  they  forbade  me.  I  will  play  the 


M  ARKOF.  Gl 

violin, — yes,  I  will!  or  else  I  will  become  wicked  and 
do  every  one  harm." 

"Silence,  Demiane,  silence!  If  they  should  hear 
you,"  said  Victor,  terrified. 

"  Well,  let  them  hear  me !  Some  time  or  other  I 
must  tell  them;  I  will  never  enter  upon  any  career  in 
which  I  cannot  play  the  violin.  And  what  harm  is 
there  in  loving  music  ?  Is  not  one's  heart  full  of  good 
tilings,  full  even  to  tears,  when  one  plays  some  beautiful 
piece  of  music  ?  " 

"That  is  true,  she  said  that  music  resembled  a 
prayer,"  said  Victor  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?     She  spoke  well !  " 

"Mademoiselle  Roussof,"  murmured  the  young  man, 
ashamed  at  having  alluded  to  so  respectable  a  pi-r.-.m 
with  so  little  ceremony. 

"She  is  good;  she  will  help  me  with  all  her  pmvn/' 
continued  Demiane,  without  paying  any  attention  to 
his  elder  brother's  confusion.  "She  understands  that 
one  loves  music  better  than  anything  else  in  the  world ! 
And  her  mother  too,  and  her  father  also!  They  will 
help  me." 

Victor  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"What  do  you  wish  to  do,  then?"  asked  he,  with  his 
practical  mind. 

"  I  wish  to  play  the  violin." 

"And  then?"" 

"  That  is  all !     Does  not  that  suffice  ?  " 

"But  it  is  not  a  vocation,"  observed  Victor.  One 
plays  on  the  violin  for  pleasure,  as  the  Koiissnfs  play  the 
piano.  But  the  rest  of  the  time,  what  will  you  <; 


62  MARK  OF. 

"You  do  not  understand  me !"  said  Demiane  impa- 
tiently ;  "  I  wisli  to  be  a  violinist ;  I  will  give  concerts, 
they  will  pay  to  listen  to  me  and  I  will  earn  a  great 
deal  of  money." 

"  Does  one  earn  money  that  way  ?  "  asked  Victor, 
who  was  not  convinced. 

"  Enormous  fortunes." 

There  was  silence;  the  frogs  themselves,  for  a  mo- 
ment stopped  their  concert ;  our  friends  meditated  each 
in  his  own  way,  during  the  stillness. 

"Father  will  not  allow  it !  "  said  Victor,  thus  ending 
his  reflections.  Demiane  made  no  objection  to  this. 
Evidently  Father  Kouzma  would  not  consent  to  his 
son's  giving  all  his  time  to  music. 

It  was  astonishing  that  he  had  permitted  him  to  do 
so  until  now;  but  his  excuse  was,  that  he  considered 
the  violin  about  the  same  as  a  lathe  or  a  carpenter's 
bench — one  of  those  useful  toys  that  one  gives  to 
children  for  their  New  Year's  gift.  The  noise  of  the 
violin  had  not  disturbed  him,  more  than  a  saw  or  a 
plane  would  have  done,  and  certainly  much  less  than  a 
hammer  driving  nails  into  sonorous  wood. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  elder  brother,  "  if  you  would 
like  to  enter  some  office  in  Government  service,  where 
one  can  advance,  father  perhaps  would  consent  to  it." 

"No,"  said  Demiane,  determinedly,  "I  do  not  wish 
to  enter  an  office." 

"But  just  to  make  a  beginning,"  Victor  intimated. 

"To  begin  what?" 

"  Anything  so  that  you  may  not  have  to  return  to  the 
Seminary,"  timidly  suggested  the  young  Machiavelli. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  C3 

This  idea  was  judicious  enough,  but  how  could  it  lie 
carried  out? 

"  One  must  first  have  a  place,"  Ddmiane  said,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders. 

"  Ask  Monsieur  Roussof  about  it ! " 

"  Yes  —  I  can  ask  him  —  but  still,  would  father  con- 
sent to  it?" 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Victor,  feigning  a  hope  which  he  did 
not  have. 

"And  then,  if  he  refuses  —  so  much  the  woi 

"  You  will  return  to  the  Seminary  ?  " 

"  I  will  run  away !  " 

Victor  shuddered  with  horror,  and,  despite  his  cour- 
age, our  conspirator  glanced  around  him  ;  but  tln-y 
were  quite  alone  —  alone  with  the  frogs  who  intoned  a 
hymn  of  triumph  in  honor  of  his  bold  resolution. 


64  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  CHEERY  TREES. 

II MADEMOISELLE  ROUSSOF,  seated  near  a 
JJjL  window  in  her  bed-room,  was  sewing  on  a  little 
peasant's  shirt,  that  was  made  of  ugly,  bright,  pink 
cotton;  she  was  very  busy  fitting  to  the  arm-holes  two 
squares  of  intense  red  stuff,  without  which,  no  one 
knows  why,  a  peasant's  shirt  is  a  despicable  object  and 
unworthy  of  being  worn  except  in  the  meanest  kind  of 
labor. 

While  her  needle  was  making  a  little  sharp  and 
regular  noise  in  the  cotton,  Mademoiselle  Roussof  was 
thinking  of  far  away  things  —  as  she  had  said  to  Victor 
the  year  before  —  and  her  wandering  mind  led  her  far 
from  the  pink  shirt  and  the  belfry  in  the  form  of  an 
inverted  turnip,  which  shut  off  her  view  on  the  other 
side  of  the  pond.  This  is  what  she  saw  in  her  revery. 

She  saw  a  green  plain,  green  with  the  velvety  look 
of  well-watered  meadows ;  and  in  truth,  a  stream  ran 
through  it,  sometimes  ornamented  with  a  few  willows, 
but  oftener  simply  fringed  with  forget-me-nots,  which 
were  so  full  of  flowers  and  so  thick,  that  one  saw  their 
pale  blue  color  stand  out  on  the  green,  even  when  more 
than  a  hundred  steps  from  them. 

The  plain  was  deserted;  a  mill,  which  was  only 
inhabited  when  it  was  running,  that  is  to  say,  when 
the  stream  consented  to  be  neither  frozen  nor  dry, 


M  ARKOF. 

• 

stood  stately  in  the  lovely  plaee,  attract ing  tli 
from  the  black  color  of  its  old  wood  which  had  been 
beaten    against   by   the   storms  of  maiiv   wint      ,       \ 
water-gate  closed  the  current  of  tlie  stivam.  and  a  small 
bridge,  hastily  made  of  two  beams,  scanned   the  \\ 
gate  at  a  certain  height.    This  bridge,  strangely  enough, 
rested  on  two  piles  of  bricks  that  were  eaten  a\\av  1»\- 
rncss,  and  worn  away  by  the  hard  knocks  of  floating 
LC€  iii  the  winter,  but  which  were  still  solid  and  aL 
majestic;  these  piers,  which  were  much  older  than  the 
bridge  they  supported,  had  witnessed  mai,  .  but 

stones,  alas!  do  not  speak.  As  to  the  bridge  it>elf.  it 
formerly  had  a  railing,  but  it  had  fallen  into  the  river  on 
some  very  stormy  night  and  no  one  had  since  seen  it, 
nor  taken  the  trouble  to  replace  it. 

The  plain  was  a  valley,  for  on  two  sides  rose  small 
hills,  whose  steep  descent  abruptly  terminated  in 
land.     On  the  left,  extended  some  woods  of  pines  and 
birches.     The  sandy  ground  was  torn  here  and  there 
into  white  rifts,  and  some  roads  —  whieh  W«T.-  white  as 
well  —  climbed  over  the  summits  and 
appeared  at  some  unknown  point. 

On  the  right,  a  little  town  was  spread  out,  ha\ing  a 
Monastery  as  its  principal  landmark.     Th: 
which  was  something  like  a  fortress  —  as  are  all  Hi. 
convents  —  enclosed  within  its  high  walls,  composed  of 
divers  buildings,  a  church,  several  ^  and 

apple    orchards,   all  of  which   < 

plain  and  were  sheltered  by  gl  '  hidi 

—  strangely  trimmed  half  way  u: 
trunks — spread  out  to  the  sky  numberless  branches, 


66  MARKOF. 

• 

which  were  relatively  young,  that  is  to  say,  about  fifty 
years  old.  These  queer  looking  trees  were  to  be  found 
especially  in  the  direction  of  the  opposite  heights,  as 
though  they  had  been  expressly  cut  away  in  order  to 
let  one  see  the  hills.  But  it  was  not  the  caprice  of 
some  owner  who  had  thus  mutilated  them,  any  more 
than  it  was  chance  that  made  the  grass  of  the  luxuriant 
meadow  so  green  and  so  fertile — the  stream  was  the 
Bdresina,  and  it  was  French  bullets  that  had  deprived 
the  great  willows  of  their  crowns. 

A  few  leagues  from  the  spot  where  the  bloody  battle 
of  Borodino  was  fought,  a  large  body  of  troops  had  an 
engagement  with  a  Russian  division;  the  little  Monas- 
tery was  cruelly  bombarded,  and  many  men  fraternized 
in  their  death  agony  on  the  banks  of  the  stream.  No 
one  counted  the  corpses  which  strewed  the  plain;  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Monastery  did  not  go  to  identify 
their  dead  under  the  murderous  fire  of  the  French 
batteries,  which  lasted  three  days,  and  when  the  army 
drew  off,  the  plunderers  of  the  battle-field  had  already 
despoiled  the  victims.  They  buried  the  Russians  and 
the  French  in  the  same  graves,  and  the  monks  of  the 
Monastery,  after  having  accomplished  this  pious  duty, 
devoted  their  prayers  during  many  long  years,  to  the 
repose  of  the  souls  of  those,  on  both  sides,  who  had 
found  death  far  from  their  homes. 

Mademoiselle  Roussof  knew  all  this ;  she  had  walked 
with  thoughtful  footsteps  over  the  grass-grown  paths 
that  surrounded  those  sacred  hillocks;  she  had  listened 
to  the  story  of  those  three  days,  a  story  of  fire  and 
blood — the  same,  alas!  which  has  been  told  for  centu- 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  67 

ries  of  all  besieged  cities,  all  violated  territories,  from 
the  obscure  corners  of  Asia  to  the  heart  even  of  capi- 
tals—  and  it  was  with  deep  pity  that  she  had  gazed  on 
the  simple  landscape,  which  was  so  smiling  in  its  lines, 
so  full  of  welcome  in  its  contours,  and  so  tragic  when 
one  learned  its  legend. 

There  are  situations,  and  combinations  of  events 
which  indelibly  engrave  on  one's  memory  certain  facts 
which  would  otherwise  have  no  importance.  Under  the 
influence  of  some  emotions,  our  heart  opens  to  new  feel- 
ings and  unveils  itself  to  us,  in  one  instant,  better  than 
it  could  have  done,  during  many  peaceful  years.  When 
Mademoiselle  Roussof  listened  to  the  story  of  th<»»- 
heroic  combats,  in  which  both  Russians  and  French 
had  shown  an  almost  superhuman  bravery,  a  young 
man  was  walking  near  the  group  of  people  of  which 
she  was  one,  and  was  watching  on  her  face  the  traces 
of  the  emotions  to  which  this  epic  had  given  birth. 

What  had  he  seen  on  that  calm,  pale  fa«e  that  had 
inspired  him  with  so  much  enthusiasm  and  veneration  ? 
Was  it  the  pity  that  is  innate  in  some  souls,  which 
betrayed  itself  in  the  pearly  paleness,  in  the  trembling 
of  the  half-open  lips?  Was  it  the  kindness  in  time 
grey  eyes  which  bent  over  the  graves  with  so  nnn-h 
sweetness,  or  the  charming  grace  with  which  the  ymniij 
girl  let  fall  upon  the  hillock,  the  bunch  of  flowers  she 
had  gathered  in  the  plain,  rendering  thus  to  death,  that 
to  which  death  had  given  birth. 

What  matters  it?  When  Mademoiselle  Kuussuf 
raised  her  thoughtful  eyes,  which  had  been  for  a  long 
time  fixed  upon  the  ground,  she  read  in  those  of  the 


68  M  A  R  K  0  F  . 

young  physician,  that  he  thought  like  herself,  and  that 
she  had  found  a  friend. 

They  did  not  speak,  for  they  did  not  know  each 
other.  Valerien  Moutine  went  to  pass  a  few  days  with 

the  archimandrite  of  M ,  whom  he  had  known 

since  his  childhood;  the  accident  of  a  broken  wheel 
had  obliged  the  Roussof  family,  who  were  going  to 
their  estates,  to  pass  two  days  in  the  little  town.  They 
visited  the  convent ;  and  the  archimandrite,  who  was 
happy  at  meeting  intelligent  people  and  being  able  to 
converse  a  little,  did  the  honors  of  the  place  to  them, 
and  that  was  how  Groucha  found  herself  walking  along 
the  banks  of  the  Beresina,  with  an  unknown  man,  the 
remembrance  of  whom  she  was  to  carr}^  away  with  her. 

Only  two  days !  It  was  a  very  short  time  in  which 
to  make  an  impression  that  was  to  last  all  her  life ;  but 
during  those  two  days,  every  thing  had  conspired 
against  her.  While  her  parents  were  seated  with  the 
archimandrite,  enjoying  some  rare  tea,  which  had  been 
brought  expressly  from  the  heart  of  China  to  please  the 
good  old  man  —  a  princely  gift  from  some  troubled  soul 
to  whom  he  had  brought  back  peace,  —  they  had  sent 
"  the  children  "  to  amuse  themselves  in  the  garden, — 
the  children  were  Groucha  and  her  brother  Benjamin, 
—  and  the  J^oung  physician  had  followed  them  under 
the  pretext  that  he  was  not  yet  twenty-five  years  old. 

The  cherry  trees  grew  in  such  profusion  in  a  corner 
of  the  orchard,  that  according  to  the  lay  brother's 
assertion  who  was  conducting  them  about,  they  lost  at 
least  two  quintals  of  them  every  year. 

"It  is  not  that  they  are  exactly  lost,"  said  the  honest 


M  A  II  K  O  F  .  C9 

fellow,  ufor  the  good  Lord's  birds  oat  them.    Tlie  blos- 
soms have  hardly  fallen  when  the  little  plunderers  come 
and    perch    themselves    on    those    trees    oj.p-. 
on   the  walls,  or  wherever  they  ran   find  a  place;  thev 
semi  to  be  watching  them  grow  and  redden  ;  hut  D 
fear  they  will  touch  them  before  they  are  ripe!     From 
time  to  time  they  come  and  give  a  thrust  with  their 
beaks  and  then  fly  away.     But  when  a  beautiful  sun- 
shiny day,  followed  by  a  good  warm  night,  has  ripened 
them,  long  before  dawn  our  gourmands  are  in  the  trees, 
and  yon  would  say  there  were  more  birds  than  eh • 
When  one  approaches  they  do  not  even  disturb  them- 
selves ! " 

"Do  you  not  place  any  nets  there?"  the  young  man 
asked. 

44  The  Father  archimandrite  does  not  wi-h  it,  he  says 
there  will  always  remain  enough  for  us." 

Involuntarily  the  young  people  exchanged  a  look  and 
smile.     Benjamin  was  already  stealing   oil'  under   the 
branches,  in  the  cherry  tree  copse;  his  sister  \vi>l. 
stop  him. 

"Ah!"  said  the  lay  brother,  "you  may  let  him  go, 
he  cannot  do  any  harm  there.     The  trees  grow  ih. 
God's  pleasure." 

He  followed  Benjamin  and  the  young  p<-"p!<-  went 
behind  him. 

In  truth,  the  trees  grew  in  full  liberty  :  the  branches 
springing  up  from  their  trunks,  entwined  within 
other,  and  forming  bowers  were  lopped  off  in   • 
to  form  covered  paths,  where  they  walk'  time 

of  gathering.     These  paths  followed  no  regular   | 


70  MAKKOF. 

but  they  turned  capriciously,  according  to  the  fancy 
of  those  primitive  gardeners.  After  a  few  steps 
Groucha  stopped  and  so  did  her  companion.  Benjamin 
and  the  lay  brother  had  disappeared  in  the  copse ;  they 
heard  their  voices  but  could  not  see  them.  The  young 
girl  raised  her  eyes :  a  milky  light  fell  upon  them  from 
the  white  arch.  They  could  not  see  the  sky,  they 
could  not  perceive  any  trace  of  cultivation ;  above  their 
heads,  around  them,  were  only  the  black  branches  and 
the  milk-white  blossoms,  whose  petals  were  scattered 
over  the  grass  at  their  feet.  Mademoiselle  Roussof  felt 
her  eyes  become  moist  with  tears,  and  she  lowered  her 
eyelids  to  hide  the  emotion  which  she  thought  was 
absurd  and  which  she  could  not  explain  to  herself. 
A  slight  movement  that  she  made  as  she  leaned 
against  a  stronger  trunk  shook  the  cherry  tree,  and  a 
shower  of  blossoms  fell  on  her  head.  There  were  some 
in  her  hair,  on  her  neck,  on  her  dress,  on  her  hands, 
everywhere  that  the  delicate  impalpable  flowers  could 
find  a  place  to  rest  themselves.  She  smiled  to  conceal 
her  embarrassment,  and  the  movement  of  her  head 
which  accompanied  it,  shook  the  petals  all  around  her. — 
Vale'rien  stooped  quickly,  held  out  his  hands,  and 
gathered  the  flowers  that  had  touched  her. 

All  this  took  place  in  a  moment,  without  a  word 
having  been  said.  They  continued  their  walk  towards 
the  place  where  Benjamin's  voice  guided  them,  and 
came  out  at  last  from  the  white  cloud  that  had 
enveloped  them. 

The  sight  of  the  blue  sky  seemed  to  give  back  to 
Groucha  the  calm  she  had  lost  in  the  disquieting 


M  A  R  K  0  F  .  71 

atmosphere  of  the  cherry  trees ;  they  took  a  turn 
around  the  large,  almost  wild  garden,  and  went  back 
to  their  elders,  exchanging  only  a  few  common-place 
words. 

"Oh!  mamma,"  exclaimed  Benjamin,  "if  you  only 
knew  how  many  cherries  there  will  be  in  six  weeks !  " 

Groucha  said  nothing,  but  her  cheeks  were  tinted 
with  a  deeper  rose,  and  Valerien  looked  out  of  the 
window. 

In  the  autumn  they  passed  through  M again, 

and  strangely,  Valdrien  was  also  there  at  the  same 
time.  Their  relations  with  the  good  archimandrite 
became  more  friendly  and  closer  ;  he  sent  a  basket  of 
cherries  to  Benjamin,  and  Madame  lloussof  returned 
him  one  with  plums.  They  passed  a  charming  day  ;  it 
rained  a  little,  the  trees  had  lost  their  leaves,  and  the 
grass  was  growing  yellow,  but  they  went,  nevertheless, 
to  walk  in  the  meadows.  When  they  were  obliged  to 
pass  over  the  famous  bridge,  Benjamin  ventured  on  it 
fearlessly;  but  his  parents  declared  they  would  not 
risk  themselves  on  it,  and  preferred  to  make  a  d£tour. 
The  young  physician,  who  was  already  on  the  other 
side  of  it,  seeing  Mademoiselle  Roussof  hesitate,  held 
out  his  hand  to  her. — Why  did  Groucha  step  resolutcly 
on  the  shaking  planks  and  put  her  right  hand  into  the 
one  he  offered  her?  —  And  why,  without  his  having 
pressed  it  in  any  other  way  than  to  sustain  her,  did  >ho 
feel  that  that  man  offered  her  his  life?  All  such 
acts  are  mysteries  that  cannot  be  solved. 

The  spring  returned,  and  they  stopped  again  at  the 
Monastery,  only  for  a  longer  while  this  time.  The 


f  2  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

archimandrite,  who  was  passionately  fond  of  music, 
presented  the  Roussofs  to  a  family  in  the  town  who 
possessed  an  excellent  piano,  and  he  passed  a  delightful 
evening  hearing  Madame  Roussof  and  her  daughter 
play  together,  and  singly,  some  of  the  best  works  of 
the  great  masters. 

"  I  will  go  to  see  you,"  he  said  to  Groucha,  when  she 
took  leave  of  him  ;  "I  will  go  so  that  you  may  play  for 
me.  I  have  not  heard  anything  so  good  for  twenty 
years." 

They  begged  the  kind  old  man  to  keep  his  promise, 
but  the  young  physician  was  not  included  in  the  invi- 
tation. Monsieur  and  Madame  Roussof  had  hardly 
taken  notice  of  the  youth's  existence,  who  said  almost 
nothing,  and  was  satisfied  in  listening  to  every  one  else. 

This  was  why  Groucha,  as  she  plied  her  needle, 
thought  of  "  far  away  "  things.  She  reproached  herself 
for  thinking  of  them,  and  still  she  did  not  wish  to 
entertain  any  other  thoughts. 

A  noise  of  bells  drew  her  attention  to  the  road.  She 
could  only  see  a  very  small  portion  of  it  on  the  bridge 
over  the  dam,  and  she  had  to  wait  quite  a  while. 
In  the  country,  one  becomes  very  clever  at  distinguish- 
ing the  difference  of  sounds  made  by  different  vehicles. 
What  was  coming  was  neither  a  telega  nor  a  light 
caleche ;  consequently  this  visit  could  not  be  that  of  a 
near  neighbor.  The  heavy  rolling  of  the  wheels,  the 
weight  of  the  equipage,  that  shook  the  ground  for  some 
distance,  the  loudness  of  the  large  bells,  all  announced 
a  majestic  berlin,  a  carriage  come  from  afar,  and 
drawn  by  six  horses. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

Indeed  a  large  landau  came  in  si^ht  on  the  bridgo, 
and  a  black  form,  around  which  floated  veils  made  of 
thin  material,  appeared  at  the  carriage  window  op].. 
She  saw  a  white  face,  and  a  hand  whiter  still,  that  was 
raised  gently  and  made  her  a  salute  that  resembled  a 
benediction. 

"It  is  the  archimandrite!"  said  Groucha  to  herself, 
feeling  at  once  a  pang  at  her  heart.  "And  he  lias 
come  alone !  " 

She  realized  then,  for  the  first  time,  that  she  had 
been  waiting  for  Valerien  for  two  months. 


74  M  A  K  K  O  F  . 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  ARCHIMANDRITE  ARSENE. 


"  ^LTOU  did  not  expect  me?"  said  the  archimandrite, 

JL      while  they  were  hurrying  to  serve  him  tea. 

He  was  seated  in  a  large  leather  arm-chair,  in  the 
shelter  of  a  green  blind,  and  face  and  figure  seemed  to 
express  rest  and  satisfaction. 

The  archimandrite  Arsene  was  not  an  ordinary  man. 
A  great  deal  too  much  has  been  written  in  novels 
about  those  who  throw  themselves  into  a  cloister  to 
heal  some  incurable  wound,  and  yet  it  is  the  truth 
sometimes.  He  whom  they  now  called  Father  Arsene, 
had  been  a  brilliant  naval  officer  ;  when  still  young  he 
had  commanded  a  frigate,  and,  during  his  leaves-of- 
absence,  Petersburg  had  never.  known  a  more  charm- 
ing member  of  society.  Suddenly,  just  as  his  career 
seemed  established,  when  Court  favor  assured  him  the 
most  promising  future,  he  had  left  the  world  and 
entered  a  monastery,  like  any  novice  of  sixteen.  They 
said,  and  he  permitted  them  to  say  it,  that  the  grief 
caused  by  his  mother's  death  had  made  life  insup- 
portable to  him  ;  but  it  is  probable  that  another  grief 
closer  still,  one  of  those  which  one  wishes  to  hide  in 
one's  own  heart,  had  preceded  or  accompanied  the  one 
of  which  he  had  made  a  pretext  for  his  resolution. 

Certain  monastic  rules  in  Russia  allow  the  retention 
of  personal  fortune.  One  may  be  compelled  to  live  as 


MARKOF.  7o 

simply  as  a  lay  brother  and  possess  at  the  same  timo 
considerable  income;  these  revenues,  which  are  not  the. 
property  of  the  convent,  permit  the  monks  to  do  manv 
good  works  outside  of  their  pious  duties.  Doubtless, 
in  cases  where  this  fortune  would  become  an  ohj»-et 
of  scandal,  he  who  possessed  it  would  be  obliged  to 
renounce  its  use;  but  in  regard  to  that  of  Father 
Arsene,  no  one  ever  had  any  occasion  to  complain  or 
take  offence  at  it. 

After  ten  years  of  humility,  being  promoted  by  gen- 
eral desire  to  the  rank  of  prior  or  archimandrite  of  the 
monastery  in  which  he  had  made  his  vows,  the  naval 
officer  immediately  established  a  military  discipline  in 
it,  which  surprised  every  one,  and  produced  the  most 
extraordinary  results.  At  the  end  of  six  months  not 
only  were  there  no  more  fleas  in  the  convent,  but  the 
Avails  which  were  kept  whitewashed  retained  their  new 
freshness;  the  floors,  which  were  carefully  scrubbed, 
scraped  and  sprinkled  with  sand,  recalled  the  deck  of 
the  vessel  which  the  brave  man  once  commanded.  Tin  TO 
were  no  more  cobwebs  in  the  corners,  no  more  heaps  of 
dust  in  the  windows,  everything  was  as  shining  and 
clean  as  on  board  ship. 

The  metamorphosis  extended  farther  still.  Father 
Arse"ne's  enterprising  spirit  needed  some  other  al  inn  Mil 
besides  the  church  services.  He  organized  a  choir, 
found  the  antique  psalmodies,  and  re-established  the 
sacred  chants  in  their  early  purity.  Pitilessly  banish- 
ing from  the  choirs  those  who  sang  falsely,  he  gathered 
together  a  quartette  which  became  celebrated,  even  in  :i 
country  where  almost  all  the  convents  are  renowned 


76  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

for  the  excellence  of  their  church  music.  But  this  em- 
ployment, which  was  purely  intellectual  left  the  monks 
long  hours  of  idleness,  which  were  gilded  by  the  fine 
name  of  hours  of  meditation.  Father  Arsene  did  not 
wish  that  there  should  be  so  much  meditation,  and  he 
undertook  to  search  for  some  less  ideal  occupation. 

One  day  as  he  was  walking  outside  of  the  monastery 
enclosure,  leaning  on  a  cane  whose  aid  he  needed,  for 
he  sometimes  suffered  from  the  gout,  he  stopped  before 
a  field  belonging  to  the  community,  and  from  which 
until  then  they  had  never  been  able  to  raise  any  kind 
of  produce.  The  ground  furnished  with  deplorable 
profusion  a  particular  kind  of  thistle,  whose  rough,  firm 
heads  obstinately  refused  to  make  even  the  most  meagre 
forage.  They  uprooted  these  obstinate  plants  twenty 
times,  they  ploughed  and  harrowed  the  field,  they  sowed 
it  with  grass  and  grain,  and  in  the  spring  it  was  thistles 
only  that  came  up,  the  same  identical  thistles,  which 
seemed  to  say :  "  We  are  here  to  remain  by  your  leave, 
and  we  will  remain  here." 

Wearied  out,  the  community  had  bought  an  ass,  and 
put  it  out  to  pasture  in  this  place,  which  ought  to  have 
been  a  realm  of  delight  for  him ;  but  the  ass  grew  thin 
from  that  time,  and  stood  out  on  the  hill-side  looking 
like  a  skeleton,  for  the  thistles  prevented  the  grass 
from  growing,  and  were  not  of  the  kind  that  asses  can 
eat.  To  prevent  his  dying  they  were  obliged  to  give 
the  poor  beast  some  oats,  contrary  to  all  the  rules  of 
sobriety  practised  in  the  monastery. 

Father  Arsene  contemplated  the  ass'  leanness,  and 
said  to  himself,  in  spite  of  his  religious  principles,  that 


MARKOF.  77 

without  doubt  the  ways  of  Providence  were  sometimes 
inscrutable,  when  a  thought  suggested  itself.  Going  to 
the  ungrateful  piece  of  land,  which  had  no  need  of  any 
enclosure,  alas !  on  the  contrary,  they  were  oblige!  t«» 
attach  its  resisting  tenant  to  a  post  so  that  he  should 
not  seek  better  fortune  elsewhere  —  the  archimandrite 
picked  off  the  heads  of  a  few  of  the  finest  specinu 
this  wilful  flora,  and  carried  them  home  with  him. 

For  several  days  Father  Arsene  seemed  so  pre-occu- 
pied  that  the  monks  did  not  dare  to  speak  to  him,  in 
spite  of  his  great  goodness.  Not  that  they  were  afraid 
of  being  badly  received,  but  they  felt  that  their  supe- 
rior had  some  idea  at  work  in  his  head,  and  they  would 
not  have  caused  him  a  distraction  or  a  care  for  any  tiling 
in  the  world. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  second  week,  the  monas- 
tery was  convoked,  even  to  the  last  lay  brother,  and 
Father  Arsene  delivered  himself  thus,  in  the  presence 
of  those  who  were  subordinate  to  him : 

"  My  dear  brothers,  my  dear  children,  we  are  very 
wrong  ever  to  blame  Providence,  when  it  is  with  our- 
selves alone  and  our  weaknesses,  that  we  should  iind 
fault   in  regard   to  our   troubles.     You  all  know  the 
thistle-field,  which  extends  down  to  the  banks  of  the 
Be'resina,  and  none  of  you  are  unaware  how  useless 
even  troublesome  we  have  found  it.     ll«>w»  \«T.  it 
tained  a  richness  which  we  have  not  known    h<>\\    io 
appreciate,  and  which  the  Lord  disclosed  t<  >  -i  her 

day.     Those  thistles  are  carding  thiv  ;re   kind 

which  is  much  sought  after;  with  the  wool  from  our 
sheep,  which  we  have  had  such  trouble  to  weave  until 


78  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

now,  we  will  be  able  to  make  excellent  cloths,  which 
will  henceforth  clothe  you.  If  the  will  of  Heaven 
does  not  prove  contrary  to  it,  our  community  will 
make  a  net  profit  out  of  it  of  two  thousand  roubles 
a  year." 

This  communication  was  received  with  surprise : 
they  did  not  dare  to  believe  it.  How  could  those 
thistles  be  good  for  anything?  They  were  obliged 
however,  to  yield  to  evidence  when  two  workmen 
brought  from  Moscow,  taught  the  brothers  how  to  use 
the  thistles.  A  temporary  building  soon  rose  on  the 
banks  of  the  Beresina,  whose  purified  waters  no\\ 
served  only  for  work,  after  having  rolled  so  manj 
corpses  in  their  stream,  and  two  years  later,  not  onl} 
were  the  benefits  foretold  by  Father  Arseme  realized, 
but  the  manufacture  of  carded  cloths  gave  the  Monaa 
tery  an  income  of  six  thousand  roubles. 

Such  was  the  man  who  henceforth,  clad  in  lone 
trailing  gowns  of  black  serge,  wearing  a  cylindrical  caj 
with  the  top  cut  off  and  surrounded  by  veils  made  o; 
thin  black  stuff,  passed  his  life  in  doing  good  arounc 
him  to  persons  of  all  ranks,  high  and  low,  and  who  fo] 
the  moment  seemed  principally  occupied  with  the  pleas 
ure  of  finding  himself  again  with  people  who  loved  him 

"You  had  given  up  waiting  for  me,"  he  said,  wit! 
his  smiling  eyes  glancing  over  the  faces  which  sur 
rounded  him,  and  bore  the  impress  of  filial  affection. 

"  You  promised  to  come,  Father  Arsene,"  said  Mad- 
ame Roussof;  "but  you  are  so  busy." 

"  There  are  duties  of  all  kinds,"  answered  the  old 
man,  with  a  smile  full  of  mischievous  good-nature;  "the 


M  A  H  K  O  F  .  79 

one  which  brings  mo  among  you,  docs  not  enter  into 
our  ordinary  privileges." 

He  looked  at  Mademoiselle  Roussof  as  he  was  speak- 
ing; the  latter  became  very  pale  and  left  the  drawing- 
room,  beckoning  to  Benjamin  to  follow  her. 

"She  understood,"  said  Father  Arsene  to  the  aston- 
ished parents;  it  is  a  good  augury  for  the  object  that 
brings  me  here;  you  do  not  guess  it,  my  friends1/ 
Your  daughter,  however,  knows  what  it  is." 

Monsieur  and  Madame  Roussof  kept  looking  at  him 
with  bewildered  eyes.  He  became  grave. 

"  My  young  friend,  Val^rien  Moutine,  has  been  very 
much  taken  by  your  daughter  Agrippine's  qualities,  but 
he  felt  sure  you  would  not  consent  to  give  your  child 
to  a  man  unknown  to  you,  and  who  possessed  no 
fortune ;  for  eighteen  months  he  has  worked  night  and 
day  to  obtain  the  place  of  physician  to  the  Hospital  of 
our  town,  and  he  has  at  last  been  appointed.  A  good 
and  regular  practice  is  thus  assured  him,  and  besides, 
he  has  my  friendship.  In  order  to  be  more  certain  of 
his  happiness,  he  wished  to  put  his  young  wife  under 
my  protection,  under  my  watchful  care.  Will  you 
give  him,  through  me,  the  hand  of  your  dan 
Agrippine?" 

The  parents  were  taken  quite  unawares,  for  they 
never  had  any  suspicion  of  such  a  demand.  .Madame 
Roussof  looked  at  her  husband. 

"Certainly,  Father  Arsene,"  said  she,  hesitatingly. 
"  The  fact  alone  of  having  trusted  this  proposition  to 
you,  pleads  in  favor  of  your  protSge." 

"It  is  truly  the  first  time,"  interrupted  the  archinian- 


80  MARKOF. 

drite,  smiling,  "  that  I  have  been  entrusted  to  negotiate 
a  marriage,  and  probably  will  be  the  last." 

"But  this — this  young  man,  has  he  spoken  to  our 
daughter?  Does  he  know  whether  he  has  any  chance 
of  pleasing  her?" 

"  Valdrien  assured  me  that  he  never  broached  such  a 
subject  to  your  child.  He  waited  until  his  fate  should 
be  settled,  to  declare  himself  to  her  as  to  yourselves; 
then,  at  the  last  moment,  his  courage  failed  him  and  he 
delegated  me." 

Monsieur  Roussof  said  nothing,  but  he  took  his  wife's 
hand  and  rose. 

"My  dear,"  said  he,  "if  you  will  take  my  advice,  if 
would  be  better  as  Agrippine  wishes.  If  you  remem- 
ber, my  position  when  I  married  you,  was  not  as 
assured  as  this  young  man's  appears  to  be,  and  yet  — 
if  this  marriage  suits  our  daughter,  let  it  take  place : 
my  sole  desire  is  to  see  her  happy." 

Madame  Roussof  wept  silently,  but  she  made  nc 
objection. 

"  Call  Mademoiselle,"  said  Monsieur  Roussof,  put- 
ting his  head  into  the  next  room. 

After  a  moment,  during  which  time  no  one  had 
spoken,  Groucha  entered.  Her  pale  face,  that  was 
paler  than  ever,  her  grey  e}res  darkened  by  her  deep 
emotion,  alone  betrayed  the  trouble  of  her  mind.  She 
stood  before  the  three  arbiters  of  her  fate. 

"  Groucha,"  said  Monsieur  Roussof  to  her,  "  our 
friend  Father  Arsene  has  come  as  the  bearer  of  a  pro- 
position which  concerns  you.  Do  you  wish  to  marry 
young  Valerien  Moutine,  who  has  entrusted  him  to  ask 
for  your  hand  ?  " 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  81 

Agrippine's  eyes  were  veiled  with  tears  for  a  mo- 
.merit,  then  she  raised  them  to  her  father. 

"  It  is  my  wish,"  she  replied,  with  an  assured  voice, 
"  with  your  blessing  and  my  mother's." 

The  parents  exchanged  a  look,  and  her  mother  tunu-d 
away  to  hide  her  tears. 

"  You  scarcely  know  him  ;  do  you  believe  you  could 
be  a  good  wife  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,"  the  young  girl  answered  with  a  shade 
of  pride. 

"Are  you  very  sure  of  what  you  say?"  her  father 
persisted,  alarmed  at  so  firm  a  decision,  which  he  had 
been  far  from  expecting.  "  Then,  do  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  I  love  him." 

"May  the  Lord  be  with  you  then,"  the  father 
sighed.  "You  have  found  your  destiny;  may  you  bo 
happy!" 

The  parents  blessed  their  child  after  the  archiman- 
drite, and  then  the  young  betrothed  girl  sat  down 
beside  them,  to  learn  all  about  what  concerned  her,  all 
that  Valerien's  messenger  could  tell  her  about  the  man 
whom  she  had  so  freely  chosen. 

The  young  plrysician  was  sent  for  that  same  day.  and 
at  night,  at  tea-time,  Benjamin  heard  that  his  sister 
was  going  to  be  married.  This  news  did  not  produce  a 
very  great  impression  on  him;  after  he  learned  who  was 
the  aspirant  to  his  sister's  hand,  he  declared  hi' 
satisfied,  and  thought  no  more  about  it  at  the  end  of 
an  hour's  time. 

A  little  before  they  were  separating  for  the  L 
Father  Arsene    approached    Groucha,  who,   calm   but 
5 


82  MARK  OF. 

more  thoughtful  than  usual,  retained  her  ordinary  ap- 
pearance. 

"  Do  you  not  think,  young  girl,"  said  he  with  a  half- 
smile,  "  that  you  owe  me  some  gratitude  ?  " 

Mademoiselle  Roussof  s  eyes  answered  eloquently. 

"Well,  play  me  a  little  music,  if  you  please;  that 
will  be  my  reward." 

The  young  betrothed  went  to  the  piano  and  played 
a  sonata  of  Mozart's.  This  style  of  music,  which  is 
calmer,  less  passionate  than  modern  music,  was  the  one 
she  preferred  when  she  wished  to  silence  the  throb- 
bings  of  her  heart.  When  she  had  finished,  Father 
Ars£ne  thanked  her,  and  each  retired,  to  think  over 
in  their  own  minds  the  impressions  of  this  day,  which 
had  all  at  once  assumed  great  and  unexpected  import- 
ance to  them. 

It  was  rather  difficult  to  employ  the  two  days  that 
were  to  pass  before  Vale*rien  Moutine's  arrival.  A 
certain  atmosphere  of  trouble  weighed  upon  the  house, 
not  that  the  parents  were  displeased  with  their  daugh- 
ter at  having  decided  as  she  had  done  ;  they  had  acted 
for  themselves  in  nearly  like  manner  in  former  times, 
but  they  were  rather  annoyed  at  not  having  given 
more  attention  to  the  young  man  who  was  going  to 
become  their  son-in-law. 

"  It  is  always  so,"  said  Monsieur  Roussof  to  his  wife, 
who  felt  this  annoyance  more  deeply  than  the  father. 
"While  waiting,  we  must  occupy  ourselves  with  some- 
thing: it  rains,  we  cannot  take  walks  easily,  let  us 
make  D£miane  come  with  his  violin ;  that  will  be  enough 
to  interest  Father  Arse"ne  all  day  to-morrow." 


M  A  R  K  0  F  .  83 

The  next  day  the  priest's  two  sons  were  invited  to 
breakfast.  Victor's  accident,  which  had  so  cruelly  in- 
terfered with  his  projected  career,  immediately  assured 
him  of  Father  Arsdne's  sympathy. 

"What  do  you  think  of  doing  in  the  future?"  he 
asked  the  young  invalid. 

"What  God  pleases!"  replied  the  latter,  sweetly. 
"  I  am  not  good  for  much,  but  I  can  still  help  others." 

"Do  you  feel  no  desire  to  enter  a  monastery?"  a 
Father  Arsene,  more  from  habit  than  from  a  desire  to 
make  a  proselyte. 

"  No  —  no,  your  Grace,  I  am  not  made  for  convent 
life.  I  have  often  thought  about  it;  I  would  ratlin- 
live  with  my  family,  and  when  Ddmiane  marries  I  will 
help  him  to  bring  up  his  children.  I  have  a  few  bonks 
I  work  a  little  from  time  to  time.  I  think  I  shall  make 
a  suitable  tutor  for  them." 

The  archimandrite  approved  by  a  movement  of  his 
head. 

"And  you,  young  man,"  said  he  to  Ddmiane,  "it  is 
you  who  are  going  to  enter  the  priesthood  ?  " 

Finding  himself  thus  questioned  on  so  delicate  a 
subject,  our  friend  blushed  and  was  embarrassed.  lint 
he  had  already  acquired  enough  wisdom  at  the  Semi- 
nary to  know  how  to  find  an  ambiguous  answer. 

"I  am  preparing  myself  for  it,"  he  replied,  without 
daring  to  raise  his  eyes. 

Father  Arsetoe  knew  human  nature  too  well  not  to 
divine  that  there  was  some  mystery  afloat. 

"Is  it  by  your  own  free  will?"  he  asked,  without 
seeming  to  attach  any  importance  to  it. 


84  MA  R  K  O  F  . 

De"miane  remained  silent. 

"Eh?"  said  the  monk,  as  if  he  had  not  heard  the 
young  man's  answer. 

Making  a  great  effort,  the  young  seminary  student 
raised  his  eyes  and  replied  frankly : 

"  No,  Your  Grace,  it  is  not  of  my  own  free  will." 

Father  ArsSne  looked  at  him  attentively ;  the  youth 
pleased  him.  In  the  secular  clothes  that  young  semi- 
nary students  wear  at  home  during  their  vacations,  he 
had  an  exceptional  grace  and  elegance,  which  the 
wretched  cut  of  a  village  tailor  could  not  entirely  dis- 
guise. A  black  down  already  shadowed  his  upper  lip, 
and  in  spite  of  Victor's  more  pensive  eyes  and  thought- 
ful air,  Demiane  appeared  the  elder. 

"  One  has  always  a  reason  for  guiding  his  acts  and 
thoughts,"  continued  the  monk  without  any  severity  ; 
"  what  is  the  reason  that  prevents  your  liking  the  priest- 
hood?" 

"  They  do  not  wish  me  to  play  on  the  violin,"  an- 
swered Demiane,  ashamed  of  giving  so  bad  a  reason  and 
incapable  of  finding  any  other. 

"Ah!  you  love  the  violin  like  that?"  said  Father 
Arsene,  more  and  more  interested  in  the  strange  fellow. 
"Will  you  play  me  something?" 

The  ladies  were  quite  ready,  and  Demiane  began  a 
sonata  of  Beethoven's  with  a  heart  throbbing  as  he  had 
never  known  it  to  throb  before.  It  was  the  first  time 
that  he  had  an  audience,  for,  until  then  the  persons 
whom  he  had  known  from  his  childhood  had  not  appeared 
to  listen  to  him ;  and  he  did  not  pay  any  attention  to 
them.  A  nervous  tension  made  him  frown,  his  black 


MARK'OF.  85 

eyes  were  fixed  on  the  page  of  music,  and  with  a  vig«»r 
that  surprised  those  who  knew  him,  he  attacked  the 
piece. 

He  was  no  longer  the  same  youth ;  the  thought  that 
he  was  playing  before  a  judge,  a  judge  who  he  felt  was 
well  disposed  towards  him,  and  who  at  the  same  time 
was  cultivated,  transformed  and  gave  him  wings.  His 
youthful  face  becoming  manly  through  the  power  of  con- 
centration, shone  like  a  neophyte's,  and  truly,  atthat 
hour  which  was  a  solemn  one  to  him,  Demiane  confessed 
his  faith. 

"  Why,  my  boy !  "  Monsieur  Roussof  said  when  he 
stopped.  "I  did  not  know  you  could  handle  a  bow 
like  that.  You  have  worked  hard  since  last  year." 

"Not  at  the  Seminary,  at  all  events,"  murmured  the 
young  man,  half  sadly,  half  smilingly. 

Being  questioned  he  was  obliged  to  relate  his  misfor- 
tunes, and  he  did  so  with  frankness,  without  hiding 
his  innocent  deceit. 

Father  Arsene  did  his  best  to  keep  a  grave  demeanor, 
but  his  blue  eyes  twinkled,  and  he  could  not  help 
revealing  certain  contractions  at  the  corners  of  his  lips 
in  his  white  beard. 

"  It  is  very  wrong,"  he  said,  however,  "  to  deceive 
your  superiors." 

"  I  know  it,  Your  Grace ;  but  what  harm  can  it  do 
any  one  if  I  play  the  violin  ?  " 

"  The  rule,  my  son,  the  rule !  We  are  not  to  discus 
it,  we  submit  to  it  through  a  spirit  of  mortification  ! 

D<3iniane  did  not  seem  to  care  much  about  the  spirit 
of  mortification,  and  the  archimandrite  was  convinced 


86  MARKOF. 

that  this  musician  would  only  make  a  very  ordinary 
servant  of  the  altar;  but,  as  it  was  not  his  concern, 
and  as  he  was  not  consulted  about  it,  he  kept  his  opinion 
to  himself. 

"Do  you  not  eat  fish,  Father  Ars£ne?"  Madame 
Roussof  said  to  him  during  dinner. 

"  No,  I  thank  you." 

"  It  is  not,  however,  a  day  of  fasting  and  abstinence," 
the  physician  insisted.  "  Why  do  you  refuse  what  is 
permitted?" 

"  It  is  an  idea  of  mine,"  replied  the  monk  smiling.  "  I 
have  a  little  system  of  my  own,  and  to-day,  if  you  will 
be  so  kind,  you  will  let  me  dine  on  bread  and  vegetables. 
But  do  not  let  it  disturb  you ;  imagine  I  have  eaten  of 
everything  even  to  committing  a  sin  of  gluttony." 

He  smiled  with  so  calm  an  air,  and  his  eyes  expressed 
so  much  kindness  that  his  wish  was  respected.  After 
the  repast  was  over,  he  took  Demiane  by  the  ear  and 
led  him  to  the  piano. 

"  Begin  your  sonata  again,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he 
to  him,  "  and  play  it  as  well  as  you  can." 

Groucha,  who  was  turning  over  the  music  book, 
looked  at  the  monk  attentively,  and,  without  raising 
her  voice  she  said  to  him  respectfully : 

"It  was  in  order  to  have  some  music  that  you 
deprived  yourself  of  fish,  Father  Arsene  ?  " 

"  Don't  say  a  word,  mademoiselle,"  he  answered,  smil- 
ing ;  "  do  not  try  to  penetrate  into  anybody's  con- 
science." 

She  threw  him  a  glance  full  of  feeling.  The  thought 
that  this  old  man  had  fasted  in  order  to  give  himself  an 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  87 

artistic  pleasure  without  any  remorse,  compensating 
thus  by  a  privation  for  the  element  of  pleasure  that 
entered  into  his  life  that  day,  inspired  her  with  greater 
veneration  for  Valerien's  friend.  She  played  for  him 
as  she  had  never  played  for  any  one,  and  these  two 
young  musicians  gave  Father  ArsSne  a  concert  almost 
equal  to  that  of  a  master. 

After  the  adagio,  he  arose  and  motioned  with  his 
hand. 

"Enough,"  said  he  ;  "I  thank  you." 

"  The  end  of  the  sonata ! "  cried  Monsieur  Roussof 
in  an  imploring  tone  ;  "  listen  to  the  end  of  it !  " 

" No,  one  must  not  be  a  gourmand"  replied  the  old 
man  gently. 

Then  he  added,  regretfully : 

"It  would  give  me  too  much  pleasure;  let  us  be 
reasonable." 


55  MARK  OF. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CLASSICAL    MUSIC. 

THE  next  evening  Valerien  arrived.  To  say  that  he 
was  received  with  open  arms  would  be  too  bold  a 
metaphor,  but  Monsieur  and  Madame  Roussof  managed 
nevertheless  to  show  him  the  necessary  cordiality.  From 
the  beginning  of  the  very  next  morning  they  were  won 
by  the  affectionate  deference  shown  them  by  their  future 
son-in-law,  by  the  simple  dignity  of  his  bearing  toward 
his  affianced  bride,  and  by  the  filial  affection  for  the 
archimandrite  which  his  smallest  act  revealed.  After 
a  trial  of  two  days,  Groucha's  father  and  mother  agreed 
that  none  of  the  young  men  who  had  been  considered 
up  to  that  time  as  possible  suitors  for  their  daughter's 
hand,  had  united  so  many  qualities ;  they  had  still  how- 
ever to  become  reconciled  to  his  modest  position.  On 
this  point  Monsieur  Roussof  was  more  indulgent  than 
his  wife. 

"  That  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence  whatever,"  said 
he,  "  so  long  as  one  has  a  little  more  than  what  is  nec- 
essary. When  once  one  is  sure  of  wanting  for  nothing, 
luxury  is  a  thing  that  one  can  very  w^ell  do  without, 
particularly  when  it  is  a  habit  acquired  early  in  life. 
Groucha  has  never  known  what  is  called  luxury ;  she 
will  find  in  her  husband's  house  pretty  much  what  she 
has  had  here  ;  I  would  not  think  of  pitying  her  for  not 
possessing  more." 


M  A  II  K  O  F  .  89 

The  marriage  was  fixed  for  the  8th  of  September  ;  it 
was  near  the  time  of  Benjamin's  re-entering  the  < 
iiiisium  in  Moscow  to  continue  his  studies,  and  the 
interval  allowed  for  the  completion  of  Mademoiselle 
Roussof  s  trousseau  ;  the  coming  event  was  made  known 
to  relatives,  friends  and  neighbors. 

The  news  did  not  surprise  Victor  very  much;  in 
"far  away"  thoughts  of  the  young  girl  he  had  fancied 
he  divined  something  beside  clouds  driven  by  the  wind- 
storm ;  what  troubled  him  was  not  the  marriage  iNelf, 
but  the  separation  which  would  be  its  consequence.  1 1, 
Avas  in  vain  that  he  said  to  himself  that  every 
when  the  Autumn  came,  Groucha  carried  away  his  sun- 
shine and  his  joy,  and  that  this  year  it  would  not  be 
otherwise,  and  the  idea  of  seeing  her  the  following 
for  a  few  weeks,  perhaps  for  a  few  days  only,  set- HUM!  to 
him  extremely  bitter.  He  did  not  account  for  the  feel- 
ings with  which  the  future  husband  inspired  him.  but 
most  certainly  he  did  not  care  to  see  him  near  the 
young  girl ;  and  yet  the  poor  boy  was  not  jealous ; 
because  he  realized  so  thoroughly  the  abyss  which 
separated  him  from  Valdrien,  but  he  suffered  at  tin; 
thought  that  this  happy  man  would  be  everything  to 
Groucha,  while  he  poor  wretch,  would  be  no  longer 
anything  to  her. 

As  the  archimandrite  could  not  long  remain  away 
from  the  monastery,  Madame  Roussof  resolve- 1  <m 
ing  him,  once  more  before  his  departure,  the  plea>uiv. 
of  a  little  good  music.     Taking  advantage  of  his  drives 
with  her  husband,  she  made  Ddmiane  practi 
classical  piece,  and  one  evening,  after  dinner,  she  off 
it  to  Father  Arsene  as  a  surprise. 


90  MAKKOF. 

The  latter  listened  in  silence,  as  lie  always  did,  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  instrument,  and  apparently  think- 
ing only  of  his  musical  enjoyment.  When  the  piece 
was  finished,  he  smiled  benevolently. 

"  Very  well,  very  well,"  said  he  in  his  gentle  voice, 
weakened  by  age  and  fasting,  "I  thank  you,  my 
children.  Come  here,  young  man,  and  tell  me  if  you 
think  one  can  be  happier  elsewhere  than  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  sanctuary,  or  in  serving  another  master 
than  the  Lord?" 

All  eyes  were  turned  toward  Demiane,  who  wished 
himself  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  in  the  garden,  in 
the  wood,  anywhere.  An  answer  had  to  be  given 
however,  and  the  young  musician  decided  to  speak,  at 
the  risk  of  drawing  down  on  himself  a  reprimand. 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  he,  "  that  to  gain  one's  living 
honestly,  fearing  God  and  serving  Him  in  the  measure 
of  one's  strength,  can  be  less  agreeable  to  the  Lord, 
than  to  see  an  ill-disposed  servant  in  His  sanctuary, 
regretting  what  he  can  never  obtain." 

Monsieur  Roussof  looked  at  Demiane  with  astonish- 
ment. Such  an  answer  must  have  been  long  thought 
of  and  pondered.  Decidedly  the  boy  was  very  clever, 
and  the  physician  showed  his  approbation  of  the  speech 
by  a  little  nod  of  the  head. 

"  That  is  true,  very  true,"  said  Father  Arsene,  no 
less  surprised.  "  And  your  father  wishes  you  to  be  a 
priest." 

"Yes." 

"  Have  you  told  him  that  your  wishes  are  opposed  to 
his?" 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  91 

"  I  have  not  dared  to  do  so." 

The  archimandrite  reflected  for  a  moment,  thru 
addressing  himself  in  a  low  tone  to  Madame  Roussof, 
he  begged  her  to  send  for  Father  Kouzma. 

De*miane  overheard,  and  gently  drawing  near  the 
monk  he  furtively  kissed  the  sleeve  of  his  habit. 

"  You  think  at  the  very  least,"  said  Father  Arse*ne, 
pinching  his  ear,  "  that  I  am  going  to  tell  your  father 
not  to  send  you  back  to  the  Seminary  ?  " 

"  A  wish  from  you  would  be  an  order  for  him ! " 
replied  D^miane,  with  downcast  eyes  and  his  breast 
rising  and  falling  in  the  excess  of  emotion. 

" That  is  a  mistake,"  said  the  monk,  sighing;  "we  of 
the  Hack  clergy  have  no  authority  over  the  priests,  who 
are  the  white  clergy  :  the  bishops,  it  is  true,  are  taken 
from  our  ranks,  and  they  can  command  the  priests; 
but  those  who  like  me  live  in  monasteries  have  no 
influence,  unless  they  are  ambitious." 

"  And  you  are  not  ambitious,  Father  Arsene  ? " 
asked  Monsieur  Roussof,  smiling. 

"  Ah !    Heavens !    no.     I   was  so  formerly,  when  I 
wore  a  uniform.     You  see  what  epaulettes  I  obtained ! 1 
answered  the  monk,  pointing  to  the  folds  of  the  black 
veil  which  floated  over  his  shoulders. 

Father  Kouzma  now  entered.  His  character  had 
become  embittered  since  the  misfortune  which  had 
fallen  on  Victor,  and  he  avoided  the  Roussof  s  house, 
which,  moreover,  he  had  never  frequented  very  much. 
Russian  priests  fully  realize  that  they  are  only  held  in 
esteem  on  account  of  their  sacred  character,  and  then 
only  when  they  are  arrayed  in  their  stole.  This  con- 


92  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

tempt  for  the  poorly  instructed  man,  of  common  man- 
ners, forms  a  striking  contrast  to  the  veneration  which 
the  minister  of  God  inspires,  and  is  one  of  the  charac- 
teristic marks  of  Russian  society.  When  in  church, 
the  priest  holds  out  the  crucifix  to  the  people  —  the 
greatest  lady,  in  order  to  set  an  example  to  the 
peasants,  will  kiss  respectfully  the  hand  of  the  offici- 
ating clergyman  who  holds  the  cross,  and  for  nothing 
in  the  world,  an  hour  after,  would  she  give  her  hand  in 
the  English  fashion  to  the  same  man  who  will  bow 
before  her  with  a  respect  sometimes  somewhat  servile. 

The  young  men  were  sent  away  :  the  archimandrite 
then  had  a  long  conversation  with  his  hosts  and  the 
Priest;  the  latter  was  stubborn,  as  are  all  men  who 
keep  their  ideas  for  themselves  alone,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  make  him  hear  reason. 

"  It  is  the  finger  of  God  which  has  marked  Ddmiane 
for  the  priesthood,"  he  repeated,  without  listening  to 
the  slightest  objection  ;  "  the  day  of  the  accident  I  was 
asking  myself  what  could  be  done  with  the  boy,  and 
the  answer  from  Heaven  came  immediately;  at  the 
same  moment  Victor  was  brought  back  to  me  in  the 
state  you  know  of.  How  can  the  will  of  Providence 
be  disregarded  in  this  ?  " 

When  men  make  use  of  the  decrees  of  Providence  as 
a  reason  for  carrying  out  their  own  caprices,  it  is  quite 
useless  to  contend  with  them ;  the  battle  is  lost  before- 
hand, and  the  three  friends  of  the  young  violinist  were 
obliged  to  renounce  their  plan. 

"It  must  be  as  you  please,  Father  Kouzma,"  said 
Monsieur  Roussof  finally ;  "  you  are  the  master,  and  if 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  93 

the  Father  Archimandrite,  your  Superior  in  orders, 
although  officially  he  has  no  power  over  you,  can- 
not bring  you  to  his  way  of  thinking,  it  would  l>e 
useless  for  me  to  give  my  opinion  afterward.  But  if 
any  misfortune  arises  out  of  all  this,  if  some  day  your 
son  refuses  to  obey  you,  in  spite  of  my  respect  for  M  •in- 
character,  in  spite  of  the  friendship  which  for  twenty 
years  I  have  borne  the  officiating  priest  of  this  parish, 
I  warn  you  that  I  shall  be  on  Ddmiane's  side  and  not 
on  yours." 

Father  Kouzma  rose  without  saying  a  word,  bowed 
respectfully  to  the  assembled  company  and  was  about 
to  take  leave,  when  a  gesture  of  the  archimandrite 
detained  him. 

"Monsieur  Roussof  has  spoken  to  you  with  frank- 
ness, with  too  much  frankness,  perhaps,"  said  he  ;  "  it 
does  not  become  us  to  judge  between  father  and  son ; 
but  I  assure  you  that  you  wrong  your  child  less  in 
obliging  him  to  follow  a  career  for  which  he  feels  no 
fitness,  than  by  preventing  him  from  giving  himself  to 
music,  for  which  Providence  has  so  visibly  qualified 
him." 

"He  was  appointed  by  the  will  of  the  Lord,*' 
replied  the  Priest  coldly.  "  I  am  the  most  humble 
servant  of  Your  Grace  and  of  Your  Lordship." 

He  retired  majestically,  followed,  as  soon  as  the 
door  was  shut  on  him,  by  an  exclamation  that  Mon- 
sieur Roussof,  out  of  deference  to  the  archimandrite, 
changed  into : 

"  Stubborn  old  man  !  " 

"  We  will  help  the  young  fellow  to  the  liberty  they 
refuse  him,  will  we  not,  Father  ArsSne  ?  " 


94  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  Hush ! "  said  the  latter,  putting  his  finger  on  his  lips 
"We  must  not  foment  rebellion  in  the  son  against  the 
father ;  it  is  a  grievous  sin,  and  contrary  to  the  fourth 
commandment." 

"Without  doubt,"  replied  the  physician,  perfectly 
serious ;  "  but  the  standard  of  revolt  once  raised,  I  am 
capable  of  helping  the  cause;  Father  Archimandrite 
you  cannot  excommunicate  me  for  this  deed,  for,  aftei 
all,  it  is  a  personal  matter,  and  I  am  not  the  son  01 
Father  Kouzma." 

The  good  monk  could  not  help  smiling,  but  he  madt 
a  gesture  of  reproach ;  nevertheless  Monsieur  EoussoJ 
remained  persuaded  that  for  the  future  De*miane  hac 
two  allies. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  95 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  PROTECTOR  FOR  DEMI  AXE. 

IF  Ddmiane  did  not  have  his  ears  pulled  that  day,  it 
was  because   when   he   went   home   with   Victor 
everybody  had  been  in  bed  for  a  long  time.    The  mu-i<; 
had  lasted  until  very  late,  and  every  one  had  seemed  to 
enjoy  it  so  much,  that,  rather  than  disturb  the  festivi- 
ties by  retiring,  Father  Arse"ne  had  preferred  imposing 
on  himself  two  days  of  secret  abstinence  to  compen- 
sate for  this  excess  of  worldly  pleasure.     But  the 
morning  at  dawn  of  day  the  young  man  receiv* 
sound  lecture. 

"  If  I  did  not  think  that  it  would  bring  me  annoy- 
ances," concluded  Father  Kouzma,  after  a  discourse  in 
which  he  had  given  proof  of  unusual  eloquence,  "I 
would  forbid  you. to  return  to  the  manor,  and  I  would 
light  the  fire  with  your  ill-fated  violin!  But  it  is  I 
again  who  would  be  in  the  wrong,  and  1  do  not  u'i.-h  to 
have  any  reproaches  on  your  account.  You  will  return 
to  the  Seminary  after  the  vacation,  your  violin  will 
disappear  forever,  and  next  year  there  will  be  no  ques- 
tion concerning  it." 

De'miane,  quivering,  listened  to  his  sentence  without 
saying  a  word;  he  knew  that  it  was  usel< 
with  his  father;  as  much  firmness  as  the  latt. 
in  the  ordinary  acts  of  his  life,  so  much  obstinac;. 
he  show  when   he   had   decided   on   anything,  taking 


96  MARKOF. 

stubbornness  then  for  strength.  When  Father  Kouzma 
had  finished  his  discourse,  his  son  left  him  with  the 
outward  forms  of  respect,  and  with  the  implacable  reso- 
lution of  never  re-entering  the  Seminary. 

Instead  of  taking  Victor  for  confidant,  as  would 
have  seemed  natural,  he  slipped  round  mysteriously  to 
Monsieur  Roussof  on  the  following  Saturday,  while  his 
father  was  celebrating  the  evening  service.  The  only 
people  who  generally  attend  this  service  are  those 
attached  to  the  church,  and  a  few  idlers,  who  are  both 
aged  and  infirm,  and  who  have  nothing  to  do  on  that 
day,  and  such  are  rare  in  civilized  countries.  The 
Lord  in  ordaining  Sunday  as  a  day  of  rest,  provided 
every  one  with  plenty  of  work  for  Saturday  night. 
Madame  Roussof,  like  a  good  housekeeper,  was  devot- 
ing herself  to  mysterious  work  in  the  depths  of  cup- 
boards and  closets  in  the  pantry  and  in  the  linen-room ; 
Benjamin  was  making  a  kite,  which  somehow  always 
refused  to  fly,  and  the  young  man  found  the  physician 
in  his  study ;  he  alone  did  not  seem  to  suspect  that  it 
was  Saturday  evening,  and  that  he  ought  to  apply  him- 
self to  some  unusual  duties. 

"  Is  that  you,  Ddmiane  ? "  said  Monsieur  Roussof. 
"  Were  you  well  scolded  the  other  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  young  musician. 

"  Your  father  has  forbidden  you  to  play  the  violin  ?  " 

"  Not  during  this  summer ;  but  after  you  leave,  there 
will  be  an  end  of  it,  I  shall  never  see  my  instrument 
again." 

Monsieur  Roussof  played  nervously  with  the  paper- 
knife  that  was  near  his  hand,  and  answered  without 
looking  at  him : 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  97 

"Well,  very  well." 

He  then  became  silent,  and  remained  so,  so  long  that 
it  last  they  both  raised  their  heads  simultaneously  and 
looked  at  each  otlra*. 

"Does  that  please  you?"  asked  the  physician,  who 
read  something  unusual  in  the  youth's  eyes. 

"  No,  sir,  it  does  not  please  me." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  then  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  ask  you,  what  I  can  do,  how  I  can  gain 
my  living,  in  order  to  continue  studying  music,  for  I 
have  no  intention  of  returning  to  the  Seminary." 

"Ah!"  said  the  physician  with  a  sigh,  which  might. 
pass  for  one  of  relief,  "and  you  have  announced  your 
intention  to  your  father  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  of  it  to  him;  it 
is  not  worth  while." 

"Very  well!  And  you  have  come  to  ask  me  to  hrlp 
you  to  disobey  your  father  and  to  take  flight ! " 

"  Yes,  sir.  It  is  you  who  taught  me  music,  it  is  you 
who  gave  me  my  violin,  and  I  do  not  suppose  that  you 
will  forsake  me  in  a  moment  of  trial." 

"Capital!  and  your  father,  what  will  he  say  when' 
you  are  gone  ?  " 

"  He  will  be  very  much  displeased,  I  know,  but  what 
would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

"  I !    Nothing  at  all,  my  boy !    And  if  he  blames  me  ?  " 

"You  will  be  in  Moscow,  Monsieur  R«.n— . >f,  and  as 
for  that,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  say  that  you  ha\e 
helped  me." 

"That's  true,  a  benefactor  should  be  modest;   that  id 
only  too  true.     And  you  have  arranged  all  that?" 
6 


98  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  I  thought  that  you  had  some  affection  for  me,  sir, 
and  that  you  took  an  interest  in  my  music." 

"  Better  and  better.  And  your  brother,  what  does 
he  say  to  these  fine  projects  ?  " 

"  He  says  that  you  will  help  me  to  find  a  place  where 
I  can  gain  my  living,  until  I  can  make  money  by  my 
violin." 

Monsieur  Roussof  put  down  his  paper-knife,  leaned 
back  in  his  arm-chair  and  smiled  to  himself.  This  was 
entirely  what  he  had  foreseen,  only  he  had  not  hoped 
to  find  so  much  resolution  and  simple  dignity  in  the 
young  boy.  He  expected  that  Demiane  would  ask  him 
for  the  means  of  living  and  not  for  the  means  of  earning 
his  own  bread. 

"  Very  well,  my  friend,"  said  he  in  quite  a  different 
tone  of  voice  from  that  which  he  had  used  before, 
"you  can  rely  on  me.  As  you  say,  it  was  I  who 
taught  you  to  love  music ;  for  the  time  being,  it  is 
a  poor  service  that  I  have  rendered  you,  as  it  places 
you  in  opposition  to  your  father;  but  later,  it  may  per- 
haps prove  an  advantage.  I  hope  that  then  you  will 
remember  it,  as  you  have  done  to-day.  Do  you  under- 
stand me  ?  " 

44  Yes,  Sir,  answered  Demiane,"  overcome  with  joy. 

44  Well,  now  you  must  do  as  if  I  had  said  nothing  to 
you;  do  not  worry  yourself,  try  not  to  irritate  your 
father  unnecessarily,  and  when  the  time  has  arrived,  we 
will  have  another  conversation  together.  Until  then, 
it  is  useless  for  us  to  speak  again  of  your  projects." 

Ddmiane  remained  motionless.  The  word  thanks 
seemed  to  him  very  common-place,  and  he  wished  to 


M  ARKOF.  99 

express  his  gratitude  at  any  price.  While  the  physician 
was  looking  at  him,  astonished  at  his  silence  and  com- 
posure, the  young  man  suddenly  caught  sight  of  a 
photograph  on  the  table  of  Groucha  and  her  brother 
when  children,  holding  each  other's  hands.  He  took  it, 
kissed  it  twice  passionately,  then  replaced  it  saying: 

"  I  thank  you,  sir !     Good  night ! " 

He  went  out,  and  Monsieur  Roussof,  tete-a-tete  \vitli 
his  new  decision,  even  while  saying  to  himself  that  In- 
had  just  taken  a  great  burden  on  himself,  could  not 
help  thinking  that  Ddmiane  had  no  ordinary  mind. 
But  in  order  not  to  be  interfered  with,  he  spoke  of 
what  had  passed  only  to  his  wife,  and  no  one  about  them 
had  the  least  suspicion  of  the  young  man's  plan. 


100  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

CHAPTER   X. 

A    CALLING. 

QEPTEMBER  arrived  very  earl}'  that  year,  much 
k_?  sooner  than  on  the  preceding  years,  and  it  took 
everyone  in  Gradovka  by  surprise.  The  re-opening  of 
the  schools,  the  marriage  of  Groucha,  the  supposed 
departure  of  Ddmiane  for  the  Seminary,  all  fell  at  once 
on  the  heads  of  the  different  people  interested  therein, 
and  Vale'rien  Moutine  was  probably  the  only  one  who 
did  not  think  that  the  marriage  day  had  come  too 
soon. 

The  wedding  took  place  very  quietly;  it  was  the 
virtuous  marriage  of  people  who  love  one  another,  and 
who  contrary  to  the  received  customs  in  such  cases 
seemed  to  feel  no  need  of  inspiring  those  around  them 
with  feelings  of  ill-will.  The  bride  looked  very  well, 
the  bridegroom  sufficiently  pale ;  Madame  Roussof  did 
not  have  a  new  dress  for  the  occasion,  a  fact  which 
provoked  some  few  criticisms  among  her  country 
neighbors ;  Father  Kouzma  delivered  a  very  correct  ad- 
dress which  he  found  in  the  collection  of  sermons,  and 
which  had  only  been  made  use  of  twice  during  forty 
years,  because  it  was  applicable  to  the  nobles  and  not 
to  the  peasants.  The  banquet  was  very  grand.  There 
were  fifty-two  people  at  one  large  table  and  no  small 
table,  which  saved  the  pride  of  every  one.  All  retired 
satisfied,  a  state  of  mind  which  had  perhaps  never  been 


M  A  KK  O  F  .  101 

known  before  in  Europe,    and  certainly  never   in  the 
"  government." 

Two  days  after  the  marriage  Vale*rien  took  his  wife 
away,  and  then,  without  any  one's  knowing  why, 
Gradovka  became  silent  and  empty.  Yet  Grouoha  did 
not  talk  much,  and  moved  about  still  less ;  but  her 
presence  was  the  charm  of  the  house,  and  every  one 
became  aware  of  it  as  soon  as  she  departed. 

Victor  took  the  announcement  of  his  friend's  mar- 
riage very  philosophically;  moreover  this  marriage 
did  not  materially  change  his  relations  with  her ;  if  she 
had  remained  there  with  her  husband,  he  would  probabl v 
have  transferred  to  the  young  man  a  part  of  the  affect  i<  >n 
which  he  felt  for  her,  and  he  would  have  included  them 
both  in  his  devotion.  No  thought  of  jealousy  could 
enter  Victor's  mind.  What  was  he,  poor  sickly  crea- 
ture, cut  off  from  the  number,  not  of  the  living,  but  of 
those  who  love,  who  hope,  who  succeed,  in  comparison 
with  Mademoiselle  Roussof,  now  Madame  Moutine. 

But  when  she  was  gone,  the  poor  boy  felt  an  intoler- 
able ennui.  Mechanically  he  turned  his  steps  to  the 
garden  hedge,  from  which  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
watching  her  coming  and  going,  and  taking  care  of  the 
flowers  and  plants  with  a  solicitude  whi«-h  the  gardener 
found  alarming  to  his  peace  of  mind.  But  it  was  all 
in  vain!  the  flowers  could  now  stretch  out  their  stalks 
in  every  direction  for  sun  or  water,  since  no  one  now 
took  care  of  them !  Every  hour,  twenty  times  a 
he  would  say  to  himself:  Mademoiselle  Roussof  must 
be  playing  the  piano,  reading  at  the  window,  or  working 
in  the  garden  —  he  would  listen,  turning  his  head  in  the 


102 


M  ARKO  F. 


accustomed  direction  —  but  he  neither  heard  nor  saw 
anything  which  could  be  even  a  semblance  of  his 
absent  friend. 

"You  are  bored,  are  you  not?  "  said  his  brother  one 
day  when  he  saw  him  returning  with  drooping  head 
from  one  of  these  pilgrimages  to  the  hedge. 

Victor  caught  in  the  act,  blushed  and  tried  to  excuse 
the  insurmountable  ennui  which  could  be  read  on  his 
face. 

"Do  not  excuse  yourself,"  answered  Ddmiane,  "it  is 
quite  natural,  and  Mademoiselle  Roussof  was  more  your 
friend  than  mine ;  I  was  of  too  little  consequence,  and 
yet  since  she  has  gone,  I  see  how  much  the  house  is 
changed.  True,  Madame  Roussof  plays  a  little  music 
with  me,  but  she  has  no  longer  heart  for  anything,  and 
it  is  not  at  all  the  same." 

The  two  brothers  were  walking  slowly  beside  the 
pond.  De*miane  seized  Victor's  arm : 

"  Listen,"  said  he  in  a  low  voice,  "  do  you  remember 
that  on  this  very  spot  I  told  you  that  I  would  not 
return  to  the  Seminary  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I  will  not  return  to  it.  Monsieur  Roussof 
has  promised  to  find  me  some  means  of  earning  my 
living. — Will  you  come  with  me?  " 

"De*rniane,  you  are  losing  your  senses!  You  are 
going  away  in  a  week !  " 

"  Precisely ;  but  I  shall  not  go  to  the  Seminary,  I 
shall  go  to  Moscow;  come  with  me,  we  will  work 
together,  we  shall  earn  enough  to  eat  dry  bread,  and 
we  shall  be  as  free  as  air !  " 


MARK  OF.  103 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  do  anything !  '*  murmured 
Victor,  piteously. 

"You  know  enough  Slavonian,  Latin,  and  Sacred 
History  to  give  lessons  to  little  children,  at  any  rate ! " 

"  They  would  laugh  at  me  — " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  that !  "  cried  Demiane,  his  eyes 
flashing  with  anger  and  tossing  his  vigorous  arms  above 
his  head.  "I  should  like  to  see  the  little  \vretdics 
laugh  at  my  good  Victor,  because  he  fell  from  a  tree." 

Full  of  energy  and  valor,  he  looked  as  if  he  were 
preparing  to  right  with  the  future  pupils  of  his  brother; 
the  latter  cooled  his  ardor  by  a  very  simple  question : 

"Has  our  father  given  you  permission  to  go  to 
Moscow  ?" 

De'miane's  fire  was  quenched,  and  in  a  perfectly  calm 
tone  of  voice  he  answered: 

"  I  have  not  spoken  to  him  about  it." 

Victor  sighed;  it  was  a  habit  which  he  had  taken 
from  his  father. 

"  But,"  continued  De*miane,  "  I  am  perfectly  sure  he 
would  refuse." 

"Well,  then?" 

"  In  that  case,  I  shall  go  without  his  permission." 

Victor  raised  his  hands  to  Heaven,  but  Heaven  must 
be  accustomed  to  this  gesture,  for  it  does  not  pay  much 
attention  to  it. 

"  And  you  will  come  with  me  ?  " 

"My  dear  Demiane,  do  not  ask  that  of  me!  I 
cannot  disobey  our  father,  nor  be  in  disgrace.  As  for 
you,  you  have  for  excuse  your  thwarted  love  of  music, 
but  I " 


104 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 


"You  will  have  for  excuse  your  friendship  for  me 
and  the  isolation  into  which  I  am  going  to  be  plunged. 
Only  think,  Victor,  all  alone  in  that  great  Moscow, 
where  I  know  no  one.  I  shall  be  very  sad  and  for- 
saken !  If  you  come,  we  two  will  form  a  little  family, 
and  from  time  to  time  we  can  go  and  see  Monsieur 
Roussof;  they  will  perhaps  invite  us  to  dine  on  Sun- 
days, and  then  you  know  that  Madame  Moutine  has 
promised  to  pass  the  Christmas  fetes  with  her  parents. 
Then  we  shall  have  fine  music." 

Victor  liked  music  very  well,  but  he  liked  Madame 
Moutine  still  better,  and  his  brother's  argument  left 
him  without  defence,  nevertheless  his  good  sense 
inspired  him  with  one  objection. 

"Without  doubt,"  said  he,  "but  if  our  father  is  angry 
with  us,  we  shall  not  be  able  to  come  back  here  next 
summer,  and  for  having  had  music  during  a  week  at 
Christmas  with  Mademoiselle  Roussof  —  with  Madame 
Moutine,  I  mean — we  shall  be  deprived  of  our  vacation 
during  the  whole  summer." 

"  Bah! "  said  Ddmiane,  with  that  Russian  wave  of  the 
hand  which  can  be  construed  to  mean  come  what  will ! 
"The  summer  is  so  far  off!  whereas,  I  would  have  to  go 
to  the  Seminary  in  a  week's  time.  You  will  not  come  ?  " 

"I  cannot,  Demiane!"  replied  the  poor  boy,  ready  to 
burst  into  tears. 

"  As  you  please,"  answered  his  brother,  coldly,  and 
he  turned  his  back  on  him.  This  was  a  manner  of 
acting  which  Victor  was  incapable  of  resisting ;  he  ran 
after  Demiane  and  put  his  hand  on  his  arm  with  a 
tenderness  that  would  have  melted  a  rock. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  105 

"And  if  our  father  curses  us,  my  brother,"  said  lie, 
so  moved  that  he  could  hardly  speak. 

"You  are  afraid  of  sharing  my  lot,  you  wish  t<> 
remain  at  home,  loved  and  petted,  while  I,  disgra.  •<  -d 
and  disinherited,  go  to  seek  my  fortune  all  alone.  Ymi 
do  well,  and  your  choice  is  the  wisest ;  therefore,  I  do 
not  blame  you,"  answered  Ddmiane,  carelessly.  , 

"Our  father  would  be  so  grieved!"  exclaimed 
Victor,  heavy-hearted. 

"And  I,  do  you  not  think  that  it  is  a  grief  to  me  to 
be  made  to  follow  a  career  which  is  distasteful  to  me, 
to  be  deprived  of  my  violin  which  is  as  necessary  to  nm 
as  bread  and  salt?  Do  you  imagine  that  it  is  for  my 
pleasure  that  I  am  going  to  live  as  poor  as  Job  for 
several  years,  instead  of  peaceably  growing  fat  in 'the 
Seminary  where  really  one  at  first  is  very  well  fed  and 
well  treated,  and  where  one  has  not  much  to  do;  and 
afterwards,  in  a  pretty  parsonage,  with  my  family 
around  me  ?  If  you  imagine  that  it  is  from  idleness  or 
selfishness  that  I  prefer  leaving  my  family,  ruining 
my  future  and  grieving  my  father,  you  are  mistaken, 
Victor." 

"  But  what  is  it  then?  "  asked  the  cripple,  astonished 
by  this  vehemence. 

"  Brother,"  replied  De*miane,  gravely,  "  I  think  it  is 
what  is  termed  a  calling." 

Victor  was  silent.  Calling,  for  him,  was  a  word  to 
be  applied  solely  to  things  religious,  and  he  did  not 
quite  understand  its  meaning  applied  to  a  profane  art 
like  music.  His  brother  perceived  this. 

"  You  know,"  he  continued  with  the  same  seriousness 


106  MARK  OF. 

which  contrasted  so  strangely  with  the  vehement  tone 
and  childish  violence  of  his  preceding  words,  "you 
have  learned  how  the  martyrs  suffered  themselves  to  be 
torn  to  pieces  by  the  wild  beasts  for  their  faith,  how 
the  missionaries  went  forth  into  wild  countries  to  con- 
vert the  heathen;  why  did  they  do  it ?  Because  they 
were  urged  forward  by  a  power  over  which  they  had 
no  control ;  they  preferred  to  be  devoured  by  the  lions 
and  slain  by  the  savages  to  living  quietly  and  doing 
only  what  was  easy  and  agreeable.  That  is  what 
is  termed  a  calling.  Well,  I  —  I  would  rather  live 
miserably  for  ten  years,  yes,  Victor,  for  ten  years, 
hardly  earning  my  bread,  wearing  thread-bare  clothes, 
and  not  daring  to  go  to  any  one's  house,  because  I  shall 
be  too  poor ;  I  had  rather,  if  needs  be,  suffer  the  pangs 
of  hunger  and  die  on  my  violin,  than  be  a  priest  and 
renounce  music." 

His  face  was  transfigured  while  he  was  thus  speaking ; 
his  pale  lips  made  the  down  which  overshadowed  them 
seem  blacker,  and  his  eyes  flashed ;  he  had  drawn  him- 
self up  and  his  slender  figure  towered  a  whole  head 
above  his  brother's  bent  body.  The  latter  looked  at 
him  with  timid  admiration,  then  with  touching  submis- 
sion, and  with  infinite  tenderness  in  his  voice,  he  said 
to  him,  gently: 

"  My  brother,  I  believe  you;  since  it  is  to  share  your 
misery  and  your  sufferings,  I  will  do  as  you  wish." 

De'miane  pressed  him  warmly  to  his  broad  chest 
without  saying  a  word,  then  they  turned  homeward. 


MARKOF.  107 

CHAPTER   XL 

A    RUNAWAY. 

PARACHA  was  packing  her  brother's  trunk  as  he 
was  to  leave  the  next  day,  and  while  piling 
up  the  shirts  and  stockings,  the  practical  reflection 
occurred  to  her  mind  that  this  trunk  was  altogether 
too  large.  It  should  have  been  left  for  her,  for 
women's  clothes  take  up  much  more  room  than  those 
of  men,  every  one  knows;  what  was  the  use  of  this 
large  trunk,  in  which  everything  would  be  tossed 
about? 

"It  is  one  of  Ddmiane's  notions  to  have  asked 
mamma  for  this  one,  who  does  not  know  how  to  refuse 
him  anything !  He  pretends  that  it  will  be  more  con- 
venient for  him  to  sit  upon.  What  an  idea  ?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  in  order  to  protest 
against  the  size  of  the  trunk,  she  leaned  with  all  her 
might  on  the  stockings  and  shirts,  in  order  to  make 
them  fit  into  the  little  corners.  Paracha  was  ratlin- 
out  of  sorts  with  everybody  and  everything.  Why  did 
she  have  brothers?  If  she  had  been  the  only  child, 
no  fate  could  have  been  happier  than  hers.  Her  t\vo 
brothers  in  coming  after  her,  had  literally  cut  away  the 
ground  from  beneath  her  feet. 

And  then  their  house  was  such  a  dull  one!  Her 
father  never  had  time  to  pay  any  attention  to  her. 
Would  he  not  do  better  to  seek  a  husband  for  her,  than 


108  MARK  OF. 

to  scold  Demiane  the  whole  day  long.  To  scold  De*- 
miane  had,  indeed,  become  for  Father  Kouzma  a  regu- 
lar occupation,  a  sort  of  daily  duty  which  he  performed 
with  extraordinary  bitterness,  arid  he  reproached  him- 
self with  not  having  done  it  sooner,  and  endeavored  by 
the  number  of  his  present  lectures  to  make  amends  for 
the  negligence  of  past  times.  His  son  received  these 
lectures  with  a  submission  which  nevertheless  somewhat 
surprised  Father  Kouzma,  accustomed  as  he  was  to 
rebellions  which  never  exposed  themselves,  but  were 
easy  to  be  guessed.  In  former  days  Ddmiane  would 
listen  with  drooping  head  and  crimson  cheeks,  and  the 
hands  which  hung  open  at  his  sides  would  quiver  with 
impatience ;  the  lecture  ended,  he  would  bow  to  his 
father,  kiss  his  hand  hastily,  and  go  off  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Now  he  would  listen  to  these  interminable 
reprimands  with  immovable  patience,  sometimes  lifting 
his  eyes  to  the  preacher  with  a  novel  expression  of 
gentleness  and  interest ;  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  draw 
the  greatest  possible  profit  from  these  reproaches  min- 
gled with  advice,  the  whole  enforced  by  threats,  so 
much  so,  that  more  than  once  his  father  asked  him  if 
he  understood  him  clearly. 

The  fact  is  that  Ddmiane,  having  made  up  his  mind 
to  leave  the  paternal  roof  and  to  escape  from  the  fate 
which  they  had  prepared  for  him,  by  one  of  those 
changes  natural  enough  in  a  character  like  his,  wished  to 
leave  a  pleasant  memory  behind  him  and  to  carry  away 
as  many  good  counsels  and  good  thoughts  as  he  could. 
His  mischievous  spirits  were  quieted,  and  for  more  than 
a  month  neither  his  mother  nor  the  maid-servant  were 


MARKOF.  109 

obliged  to  reproach  him  with  any  escapade  in  the  private 
domains  of  the  household;  he  was  respectful  to  his 
parents,  affectionate  to  the  poor  and  lowly  of  the 
village,  as  if  he  desired  to  make  himself  regretted,  and 
that  was  indeed  what  he  wished,  counting  on  the  indul- 
gence which  the  recollection  of  these  last  days  would 
call  forth  on  his  behalf.  He  was  even  smiling  and  ami- 
able with  his  sister,  although  this  was  certainly  the 
most  difficult  part  of  his  self-imposed  task. 

Another  trial  which  cost  him  a  constant  effort  over 
himself  was  Victor's  despondent  manner;  often  he 
would  repeat  to  him  that  his  tearful  appearance  would 
betray  their  secret ;  the  poor  boy  was  incapable  of  con- 
trolling himself.  The  thought  of  leaving  perhaps  for- 
ever, so  dear  a  home,  and  such  good  parents,  would 
bring  tears  to  his  eyes  and  overwhelm  his  mind  with 
sorrow.  If  any  one  had  the  least  suspicion  of  the 
3Toung  men's  project  Victor  would  have  betrayed  it  to 
him  a  hundred  times  a  day.  Happily  no  one  thought 
of  such  a  thing. 

While  Paracha  was  bestowing  her  regrets  on  the  too 
large  trunk  which  might  have  been  put  to  a  better  usr, 
Demiane  went  to  Monsieur  Roussof  to  bid  him  good- 
bye. In  reality,  although  he  had  prepared  everything 
for  his  flight,  it  was  absolutely  impossible  for  him  to 
effect  it,  seeing  that  he  and  his  brother  between  them 
could  not  raise  two  roubles.  In  spite  of  his  confidence 
in  the  physician's  promise,  Demiane  was  very  much  agi- 
tated when  he  entered  his  study. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Monsieur  Roussof,  who  was 
reading  the  newspaper,  "you  have  come  to  bid  me 
good-bye." 


110  MARKOF. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  young  man  boldly,  encour- 
aged by  the  tone,  not  by  the  words. 

"  You  are  going  to-morrow  to  the  Seminary  ?  " 

"  Unless  you  decide  otherwise,  sir." 

The  physician  began  to  laugh.  This  way  of  remind- 
ing him  of  his  engagements  was  very  much  to  his 
taste. 

"  You  never  asked  me  if  I  remembered  our  conver- 
sation ?"  said  he  in  a  tone  of  interrogation. 

"  Of  what  use  would  it  have  been,  sir  ?  If  you 
remembered  it,  there  was  no  need  of  speaking  of  it ;  if 
you  had  forgotten  it,  of  what  use  would  it  be  to  remind 
you  of  a  thing  which  had  not  been  sufficiently  interest- 
ing to  engrave  itself  on  your  memory  ?/' 

"  Zounds !  what  argumentative  powers  !  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  would  have  made  progress  at  the  Seminary  ! 
What  if  we  sent  you  back  there  ?" 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  sir,  it  depends  entirely  on 
you,"  answered  Demiane  resignedly. 

"  Well,  I  have  decided  that  you  are  to  give  four  les- 
sons a  week  in  Moscow,  at  the  house  of  one  of  my 
friends  who  wishes  his  two  sons  to  learn  to  play  the 
violin ;  you  will  not  be  paid  very  much,  you  will  have 
fifteen  roubles  a  month  for  the  four  lessons;  that  is 
not  brilliant,  but  small  streams  make  large  rivers. 
Besides  this  you  will  help  Benjamin  to  prepare  his  tasks 
for  the  Gymnasium,  for  you  know  he  is  as  lazy  as  a 
dormouse ;  that  will  take  you  four  or  five  evenings  a 
week,  and  I  will  also  give  you  fifteen  roubles,  which 
will  make  thirty.  Do  you  think  that  you  can  live  on 
a  rouble  a  day  ?" 


MARKOF.  Ill 

"I  do  not  know,  sir;  I  think  that  I  can,  for  1  a  in 
determined  to  bear  everything.  I  thank  you  with  all 
my  heart  for  your  kindness ;  but  the  duty  of  making 
Benjamin  prepare  his  lessons,  will  answer  much  better 
for  Victor  than  for  me,  and  I  beg  that  you  will  reserve 
it  for  him.  I  will  look  out  for  something  else." 

"Victor!"  cried  Monsieur  Roussof ; " what, have  you 
enticed  Victor  to  go  away  also  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  D^miane,  with  a  slight  smile  of 
triumph. 

"  Then  you  are  without  a  home,  now ;  as  if  it  were 
not  enough  for  one  of  you !  But  we  only  agreed  on 
one  !  And  then  your  father,  what  will  he  say  ?  " 

"  You  will  tell  him,  sir,  when  we  have  gone,  that  I 
have  taken  Victor  as  a  safe-guard.  Victor  is  so  good, 
so  gentle,  so  pure,  so  noble-minded,  so  wedded  to  his 
duties,  that  as  long  as  he  is  with  me,  no  misfortune  can 
happen  to  me.  Victor  will  give  me  good  advice,  he  is 
economical,  handy — " 

"  He  will  make  an  excellent  housekeeper,  I  do  not 
doubt,"  concluded  Monsieur  Roussof.  "  After  all,  it  is 
a  good  idea;  but  the  blow  will  be  a  hard  one  for 
Father  Kouzma !  " 

"You  will  soften  it  to  him,  sir,"  said  Demiane 
gently.  "It  is  you  who  will  let  him  know  that  I 
could  not  resist  an  imperative  call — " 

"  And  it  is  I  who  am  charged  with  the  errand  into 
the  bargain?  Tell  me,  my  boy,  you  are  laughing  at 
me,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  If  you  do  not  do  it,  sir,  whom  would  you  have  do 
it  ?  It  is  so  natural  that  it  should  be  you,  that  if  you 


112  MARKOF. 

refuse,  he  will  see  immediately  that  you  have  helpe< 
me." 

"  Heavens  !  how  acute  you  are  !  "  exclaimed  Mon 
sieur  Roussof,  surprised  by  this  good  sense.  "Yoi 
two  together  are  going  to  rouse  the  world !  " 

"  I  hope  so ! "  answered  the  proud  smile  of  tin 
young  man,  but  his  lips  remained  mute. 

"  That  changes  my  plans,"  resumed  the  physician 
"  I  put  twenty-five  roubles  into  this  envelope,  to  take 
you  to  Moscow,  and  to  help  you  to  start  fair ;   you 
must  have  fifty  —  here  they  are ;   but   be  economical 
both  of  you,  for  I  am  not  rich." 

"  It  is  a  loan,  sir,"  answered  De*miane  proudly, 
thank  you  for  being  kind  enough  to  be  the  creditor  o 
a  poor  devil  like  myself,  but  I  will  repay  you  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"  So  be  it,  my  friend,  it  is  a  loan  if  you  prefer  it, 
have  no  objection,  although  that  was  not  my  intention 
I  suppose  however  you  are  not  going  to  offer  me  a 
promissory  note." 

"No,  sir,  my  word  is  as  good  as  my  bond." 

"  Come  ;  that's  all  right.  What  a  queer  boy  you  are  ! 
And  your  violin,  how  are  you  going  to  carry  it  away  ?  " 

"That's  Victor's  affair.  He  has  promised  me  to 
stow  it  away  somewhere." 

"  He  is  commencing  to  play  his  part  of  housekeeper  ? 
You  lose  no  time,  I  see.  And  how  are  you  going  to 
carry  him  off?" 

"He  has  asked  permission  to  take  me  to  the  Post 
Station.  Instead  of  coming  back  with  our  horse,  he 
will  continue  on  the  road  with  me.  The  peasant  who 


MARK  OF.  113 

brings  back  the  telega,  will  bring  you  a  note  from  me 
announcing  our  departure." 

"You  make  me  think  of  Augustus  before  tin- -bat tin 
of  Actium !     I  admire  you!      In  a  week,  we  >hall  all  bo 
together  in  Moscow.     Go  and  take  leave  of  lienjamin, 
and  do  not  tell  him  that  Victor  is  to  make  liim  work  this 
winter  ;  he  is  incapable  of  keeping  a  secret  for  more  than 
five  minutes.     I   am  delighted   that    it  \\ill   he    V! 
you  would  have  made  but  a  sorry  tutor,  when 
has  that  gift, —  the  gift   of  patience  above   all.      .1  ' 
revoir,  my  friend,  and  a  pleasant  journey  to  you.*1 

When  Paraeha,  who  left  the  trunk  to  go  and  ta] 
cup,  or  rather  several  cups  of  tea.  came  baek  to  pv«-  it 
a  last  look,  she  wac  surprised  tu  iind  that  it  seemed  to 
have  become  singularly  smaller  in  the  in>ido.  The 
things  were  just  where  she  plaeed  them,  but  they  n«>w 
filled  the  space  which  before  had  been  left  empty 
between  their  level  and  the  lid  of  the  trunk.  Victor, 
who  was  standing  leaning  against  the  window,  was 
looking  at  it  with  an  air  of  indifference. 

u  What  have  you  crammed  in  there  ?  "   asked  1 
cha,  indignant  at  the  thought  that  her  handiwork  was 
tampered  with. 

"Manuscripts  of  Sacred  History  which  I  have  1< 
to  Ddmiane,  all  my  old  Seminary  exercises;  i 
a  whole  pile,  and  I  have  put  them  underneath,  not  to 
disturb  your  nice  arrangement.'1 

"You  do  very  wrong  to  encourage  him  in  his  idle- 
ness;* grumbled  Paracha.     "Hell    n.-v.-r  die  of  • 
work.      You    have    nothing    else    to    put  That's 

fortunate,  at  any  rate/' 
7 


114  MARKOF. 

In  her  ill  humor,  she  shut  the  trunk  energetically, 
making  the  lock  jingle,  for  all  the  locks  of  trunks 
belonging  to  the  lower  classes  are  musical,  and  the 
more  sonorous  they  are,  the  more  they  cost ;  then  she 
gave  the  key  to  Victor. 

"  There,  give  it  to  that  good-for-nothing,  I  have 
something  else  to  do  than  to  busy  myself  about  his 
clothes  all  day  long  !  " 

And  she  went  on  her  way  to  more  agreeable  duties, 
because  they  were  devoted  to  the  embellishment  of  her 
own  person. 

The  following  day,  near  twelve  o'clock,  after  a  quick 
repast,  De'rniane  drew  near  to  Father  Kouzma  to  ask 
for  his  blessing.  The  telega  was  before  the  door,  and 
harnessed  to  it  was  the  horse  which  served  the  priest 
for  farming  purposes,  and  another  hired  for  the  oc- 
casion ;  the  proprietor  of  the  latter  was  to  act  as 
coachman  until  they  reached  the  Post  Station,  where 
the  stage-coach  passed  which  took  them  to  the  Semi- 
nary. Father  Kouzma  had  no  intention  of  scolding 
his  son  on  that  day,  having  complied  with  that  duty 
the  previous  evening  in  such  a  way*  as  to  be  able  to 
rest  for  some  time.  He  blessed  his  child  and  embraced 
him  with  more  than  usual  tenderness.  The  excellent 
behavior  of  the  young  man  during  these  last  days  had 
softened  his  heart  towards  him.  Demiane  was  very 
pale;  this  unwonted  gentleness  inspired  him  with  an 
emotion  that  he  had  much  difficulty  in  mastering ;  he 
did  not  dare  to  look  either  at  his  mother  or  at  Victor, 
and  his  project  came  near  ending  in  smoke,  for  he  was 
perlmps  about  to  confess  all  and  beg  pardon,  when  his 


MARK  OF.  115 

father,  considering  that  he  had  forgotten  a  part  of  his 
duty,  said  in  a  severe  tone : 

"  And  above  all,  no  more  music." 

"Good-bye,  father;  good-bye,  mother;"  answered 
De'miane  in  a  voice  that  had  become  firm  again.  "You 
are  coming  with  me,  Victor?" 

Victor  advanced  to  his  father,  to  receive  his  blessing 
also.  The  priest,  somewhat  surprised,  seemed  to  ask 
him  the  meaning  of  this  pious  zeal. 

"  Me,  as  well  as  De'miane,  my  father,"  said  the  poor 
boy,  ashamed  of  his  deceit,  and  more  unhappy  than  if 
he  were  the  greatest  criminal. 

"So  be  it,"  said  Father  Kouzma,  blessing  his  eldest 
son.  "  Do  not  be  belated,  the  night  comes  so  quickly." 

"Good-bye,"  repeated  both  sons,  already  on  the 
threshold  of  the  door. 

They  got  into  the  telega,  the  peasant  whipped  his 
horse,  they  passed  the  gate  at  the  entrance  to  the  vil- 
lage, waved  their  hands  for  the  last  time  to  the  grey 
houses,  and  then  looked  at  one  another,  hardly  daring 
to  believe  in  the  success  of  their  enterprise. 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  Victor,  regretfully,  "  I  have  for- 
gotten something." 

"What?"  asked  his  brother  anxiously,  "the  violin?" 

"  No,  it  is  in  the  trunk,  and  we  are  sitting  on  it.  I 
forgot  to  bid  Paracha  good-bye." 

"Oh,  well!  there  is  no  great  harm  done,"  said 
D^miane,  laughing.  "And  then,  it  is  a  good  sign 
when  one  forgets  something.  It  is  a  sign  that  one 
return." 


116 


M  A  RK  O  F. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE     MONASTEBY. 

next  morning,  the  diligence  deposited  in  the 

dust  of  M ,  the  two  young  travellers,  who 

were  worn  out  with  fatigue  and  consumed  with  anxiety, 
Should  they  think  of  coming  after  them,  what  woul 
become  of  these  flown  birds  ?  It  was  with  the  mannei 
of  conspirators  that  they  left  the  post-station  —  while 
their  travelling  companions  were  taking  a  detestable 
repast  —  and  they  set  out  for  the  Monastery. 

44  And   suppose  the  Father  archimandrite   turns 
away  from  the  door?"  said  Victor,  who  was  always 
inclined  to  look  at  the  dark  side  of  things. 

"  We  will  go  away,"  replied  Demiane. 

He  was  the  one  who  had  acquired  Groucha's  opti 
ism,  while  his  brother  became  more  and  more  alarmed. 

Ddmiane's  legs  took  more  rapid  strides  than  Victor's 
he  perceived  it  and  slackened  his  gait,  passing  hi 
brother's  arm  in  his  own. 

"  See,"  said  he,  "  the  weather  is  fine,  the  sunshin 
accompanies  us ;  my  heart  is  full  of  song !  All  th 
tunes  of  my  violin  are  dancing  in  my  head  ! " 

They  soon  reached  the  Monastery  and  were  receive 
in  the  pilgrim's  house  by  a  lay  brother,  with  a  welcon 
ing  face.  Every  Monastery  possesses  its  pilgrim 
house,  which  is  situated  at  one  of  the  angles  of  th 
quadrilateral  formed  by  the  convent  grounds.  Thos 


M  ARKOF.  117 

who  stop  in  the  town  and  cannot  pay  to  go  to  an  inn, 
and  the  sick  and  the  weary,  are  welcomed  there,  provi- 
ded they  have  an  honest  appearance,  and,  according  t.» 
their  social  position,  they  obtain  a  place  in  the  dormi- 
tory on  a  pine  board,  or  are  given  a  room  to  themx-h  es, 
in  accordance  with  the  steward's  orders.  Those  who 
have  nothing  to  eat  are  fed  by  the  monks;  the  others 
take  their  meals  as  they  choose,  either  sending  for 
them  from  without,  or  else  preparing  them  thenix-lves. 
The  sick  apply  to  the  pharmacy  of  the  Monastery,  ami 
are  most  generally  cured  in  a  few  days,  their  chirf 
ailment  being  fatigue. 

Ddmiane  wrote  on  a  small  piece  of  paper:  "  D.'i:. 
Markof,  an  humble  sinner,  presents  himself  to  the 
Father  archimandrite  to  ask  for  his  blessing,"  and  sent 
it  to  be  taken  to  the  interior  of  the  convent.  Five  min- 
utes afterwards,  the  brother  reappeared,  laughing  in 
spite  of  himself,  doubtless  at  something  he  had  ju>t 
heard. 

"This  way,  my  young  gentleman,"  said  he,Openi] 
door  that  led  into  the  garden.     "You  will   find  the 
Father  archimandrite  at  the  end  of  the  walk." 

Reassured  by  this  jovial  reception,  wliirh  >•••  mod  a 
good  augury  for  him,  Ddmiane  dragged  Victor  umh-r 
the  birch  trees,  which  were  already  shorn  of  tin -ir 
leaves  and  which  formed  a  long  avenue  leading  to  the 
church,  and  to  a  semi-circular  terrace  that  overlooked 
the  whole  valley  of  the  Bdrdsina,  where,  in  truth,  tht-y 
found  Father  Arsene. 

Ddmiane  approached  slowly;  at  the  sight  of  his 
judge,  all  his  assurance  forsook  him ;  not  that  the  old 


118  M  ARKO  F, 

man  looked  cross,  but  his  light-blue  eyes  seemed  to 
penetrate  so  far  into  the  young  musician's  conscience, 
that  he  felt  himself  in  fault  and  realized  for  the  first 
time  the  responsibility  he  had  undertaken  in  bringing 
his  brother  with  him. 

He  wished  to  kiss  the  monk's  hand  and  to  receive  his 
blessing,  but  the  latter  raising  it  kept  him  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  the  questioning,  so  much  dreaded  by  Victor, 
began  with  some  solemnity  : 

"  Whence  do  you  come,  young  man  ?  " 

"  From  my  father's  house,  Your  Grace." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  Moscow." 

"  With  Father  Kouzma's  permission  ?  " 

"  Without  it,  Your  Grace." 

"Does  Monsieur  Roussof  know  it?" 

"  He  does,  Your  Grace ;  he  told  me  to  present  his 
compliments  to  you,  and  to  tell  his  daughter  as  well  as 
his  son-in-law  all  the  news." 

Father  Arsene  thought  to  himself,  that  De*miane  had 
an  extraordinary  assurance  for  his  age  and  that  he 
would  get  on  very  well,  without  any  one  to  watch  over 
him . 

"  Is  that  your  brother  ?  "  said  he,  pointing  to  Victor ; 
"  I  think  I  saw  him  at  Gradovka." 

"  Yes,  Your  Grace." 

"  What  is  he  doing  with  you? " 

"  1  begged  him  to  come  with  me,  that  I  might  not  be 
alone  in  my  life.  Victor  is  much  better  and  much 
wiser  than  I ;  his  advice  will  be  useful  and  beneficial 
to  me." 


MARKOF.  1  I1.! 


"Hem!    it  does  not  appear  to  me  that  his 
has  so  much  influence  over  you,"  said  the  monk. 
ously,  "for  I  do  not  suppose  it    was  he  \vho  ad, 
you  to  leave,  or  who  begged  you  to  bring  ],im  -with 
you." 

Dcmiane  lowered  his  head,  and  Victor,  thinking  him 
Vanquished,  took  up  his  defence. 

"Excuse  him,  Your  Grace,'  said  he,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "the  poor  fellow  was  so  unhappy  at  being  fur- 
bidden  to  play  music  !  He  could  not  resist.  We  love 
each  other  so  dearly,  Your  Grace." 

The  sound  of  his  troubled  voice  had  something  touch- 
ing in  it  that  went  to  the  old  monk's  heart.  He  could 
well  remember  his  youth,  and  the  storms  that  despotic 
domineering  engenders  in  the  heart,  and  he  felt  pity  for 
our  friends. 

"I  will  speak  to  your  father,"  said  lie  ;  "but  on  con- 
dition that  you  will  not  continue  your  rebellion  any 
longer.  You  must  write  him  that  you  are  ashamed  of 
your  error,  that  you  hope  for  his  pardon,  and  that  you 
will  submit  yourselves  humbly  to  his  commands." 

"But  he  will  exact  that  we  return  to  him  !"  observed 
Demiane. 

The  archimandrite  concealed  a  smile. 

"It  is  too  late  to  return  to  the  Seminary,"  he  said, 
"you  are  justly  expelled  from  this  hour." 

Demiane  nearly  jumped  with  joy;  his  brother 
ceived  the   impulse  and   seized   him  by   the   arm 
restrained   himself,  but   his   eyes   expressed   so   u. 
delight  that  Father  Arsene  could  no  longer  contain. 
himself. 


120  MARK  OF. 

"  little  thief,"  said  lie,  taking  him  by  his  ear,  "  at 
least  you  will  become  a  great  artist?" 

With  a  passionate  gesture  Ddmaine  seized  the  monk's 
hand,  and  kissed  it  twice  with  earnestness. 

"  That's  all  very  well,  that's  all  very  well,"  said  the 
Priest,  withdrawing  his  hand  ;  "  you  are  a  great  sinner, 
and  your  mentor  there  is  not  worth  any  more  than  your- 
self. The  fine  wisdom  you  two  have  !  On  what  are 
you  going  to  live,  foolish  fellows  that  you  are,  what  are 
you  going  to  eat?" 

"  Probably  the  bread  of  misery,"  hazarded  Ddmiane, 
who  allowed  himself  to  make  two  or  three  gambols, 
which  were  moderated  however  on  account  of  the  holi- 
ness of  the  place  where  they  were,  the  peristyle  of  a 
church,  and  which  was  consecrated  moreover,  as  was 
all  the  ground  occupied  by  the  convent.  "  But  if  you 
only  knew,  Father  Arsene,  how  indifferent  we  are  to  all 
that !  Do  you  wish  me  to  play  you  a  little  music  ?" 

"  You  wish  to  'pay  me  in  your  worthless  money,  bad 
fellow!"  said  the  monk,  who  was  rejuvenated  by  this 
youthfulness,  this  exuberance  which  recalled  to  him  the 
remote  time,  when  a  simple  naval  cadet,  he  climbed 
the  ropes  of  his  fine  man-of-war.  "  Well,  so  be  it,  go 
to  Madame  Moutine,  and  tell  her  I  will  see  her  at  four 
o'clock,  and  let  her  have  her  piano  ready." 

Madame  Moutine  was  always  ready,  and  her  piano 
also.  She  received  with  kindness  the  fugitives  whose 
visit  her  father  had  announced  to  her,  and  Victor  was 
able  to  assure  himself  that  she  was  happy.  Her  great 
calmness  was  always  the  same,  but  a  look  of  repose  and 
contentment  had  replaced  the  melancholy  one  of  her 


MARK  OF.  121 

past  days.  The  poor  boy  felt  a  real  joy  at  tin-  M^ht  ..f 
her  happiness,  and  his  unselfish  affection  carried  away 
with  it  something  with  which  to  gladden  him  during 
the  cold  days  of  winter  solitude  which  they  were  about 
to  pass  in  poverty. 

After  one  or  two  sonatas,  Father  Arse*ne  was  con- 
tent; and  he  invited  the  young  men  to  be  present  at 
the  evening  service,  "in  a  spirit  of  penance,"  he  said  ; 
in  reality,  he  wished  to  know  what  Ddmiane  would  MJ 
about  his  choristers,  whom  he  had  instructed  with  mo>i 
particular  care. 

The  night  having  come,  they  went  to  the  Convent 
Church.  Above  a  door  which  led  into  the  interminable 
birch-tree  walk,  the  monk  made  the  young  men  ob-ei\e 
a  picture  in  fresco.  It  was  what  is  commonly  called. 
Saint  Veronica's  Veil;  the  face  of  Christ  on  a  cloth 
that  is  suspended  from  its  two  upper  corners.  A  lamp 
burned  night  and  day  before  the  holy  picture  and  per- 
mitted one  to  see  it  distinctly. 

"Look,"  said  he,  "if  that  is  not  a  veritable  wonder: 
when  the  French  bombarded  the  Monastery,  in  1812, 
their  iron  shells  struck  this  door  on  the  right,  on  the 
left,  above  and  below  the  face  of  Christ;  the  cloth  is 
full  of  holes,  the  projectiles  remain  in  the  wall,  only 
the  Divine  Face  was  spared." 

De'miane  looked  at  the  picture  with  curiosity,  while 
Victor  said  a  prayer  before  it. 

"  Who  painted  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  was  a  man  who  happened  to  be  here  at  the  time 
of  the  bombardment ;  he  had  just  finished  his  work,  the 
paint  was  not  yet  dry,  so  they  have  told  me.  He 


122 


M  ARKOF. 


afraid  his  work  would  be  destroyed;  he  had  not 
sufficient  faith.  He  painted  other  things  in  the  con- 
vent ;  all  the  frescoes  are  by  him ;  and  then  on  the  top 
of  the  house  I  live  in,  there  is  a  pavilion,  in  which  he 
painted  some  very  curious  things  —  he  was  a  man 
after  your  style,"  added  he,  addressing  Demiane ;  "  he 
believed  in  nothing  but  painting,  and  he  would  rather 
have  died  than  have  given  up  his  brush." 

"  You  will  show  me  what  he  did,  Father  Arsene, 
will  you  not?"  said  the  young  man,  letting  the  indi- 
rect reproach  pass  unnoticed,  and  seizing  the  fact  that 
interested  him. 

"  Yes,  curious  youth,  you  will  see  it  to-morrow. 
Come  and  ask  pardon  of  the  Lord  for  your  past  and 
present  faults  ;  you  have  enough  with  which  to  occupy 
yourself  throughout  a  hundred  services." 

They  entered  the  church,  and  the  young  men  re- 
mained a  little  behind,  while  the  archimandrite  went  to 
occupy  his  pontifical  throne.  The  monks,  to  the 
number  of  about  sixty,  went  two  by  two  and  bowed 
before  him,  then  they  presented  him  with  incense, 
which  he  blessed,  and  an  unusual  grandeur  transfigured 
his  face.  The  young  men  were  amazed  at  witnessing 
the  majesty  with  which  this  man,  who  was  so  simple  in 
ordinary  life,  could  clothe  himself. 

The  church  was  lighted  only  by  the  tapers  and 
lamps  that  burned  before  the  images  :  an  almost  total 
darkness  reigned  at  the  sides  and  under  the  interior 
peristyle,  while  the  dome,  that  rose  above  the  centre  of 
the  church,  was  filled  with  a  dim  light,  a  sort  of  lumi- 
nous mist,  made  by  the  wax  and  oil  that  were  being 


MARKOF.  123 


slowly   consumed.      The   incense   mounted   in 
spirals   up  as  far   as  the   top   of   the   cupola,  a  in  I  the 
archimandrite  on  his  throne,  lighted  by  a  givat   IUJM-I- 
which  was  held  by  a  monk  standing  beside  him. 
the   prayers  of  the   ritual   in   an  uncommonly  sweet, 
tender  voice.     He  distinctly   enunciated  all  the   holy 
words;   his  small,  white  teeth  shone  from  time  to  time 
in  his  silvery  beard  that  reached  his  breast;    hi> 
framed  in  his  long  hair,  which  looked  like  white  silk, 
seemed  to  shed  a  mystical  light  in  the  half  i 
choir. 

De*miane  looked  at  him,  hidden  in  the  shadow,  and 
said  to  himself  that  the  man  was  truly  majestic. 

Suddenly,  the  archimandrite  closed  the  book,  th<> 
taper  was  put  out,  and  the  white  light  faded  from  his 
face.  A  solemn  psalmody  in  the  lowest  key  of  ten  rich 
bass  voices  began  slowly,  in  semi-tone,  and  Demiane 
felt  his  heart  throb.  All  the  ardent  supplication.-, 
the  fallen  hopes,  the  sorrowful  resignation,  that  life 
may  put  in  a  human  soul,  all  were  contained  in  those 
simple  phrases,  which  were  as  short  as  sobs,  as  modu- 
lated as  sighs.  The  tenors  took  up  the  .strain  in  a, 
major  key,  and  their  young  and  vibrating  voices  spoke 
of  the  passionate  struggles,  the  work  of  life,  of  strength 
and  youth  bent  to  material  labor  in  order  to  overcum.; 
aspirations  that  were  henceforth  to  be  forbidden  th^m 
then  the  voices  blended  into  harmonious  unity,  and  an 
humble,  thrilling  prayer,  oft-repeated,  to  invoke  the 
mercy  of  Providence,  united  all  sufferings,  all  d 
in  a  tender  outburst. 

Father  Arsene's  voice  rose  from  out  the  twilight  of 


124  MARK  OF. 


the  place,  and  let  fall  a  few  words  of  peace  ;  the  taper 
re-appeared  beside  him,  while  the  choir  answered  him 
in  a  hymn  of  thanksgiving,  then  silence  came,  and  he 
raised  his  right  hand  to  give  his  blessing.  One  after 
the  other,  the  monks  clad  in  their  trailing  robes,  and 
enveloped  in  long  black  veils  that  fell  from  their  high 
head  dresses,  went  and  bowed  down  to  the  ground 
before  their  Superior,  then  the  lamps  were  extin- 
guished, and  Father  Arsene  found  himself  alone  in  the 
church  with  his  two  proteges. 

"  Ah !  "  Ddmiane  tried  to  say,  "  those  are  the  songs 
of  Paradise." 

The  monk  imposed  silence  upon  him  by  a  motion 
of  his  hand. 

"  To-morrow,"  said  he.  "  The  night  belongs  to  the 
Lord." 

They  left  slowly,  filled  with  respect  and  a  sort  of  fear 
for  that  august  man,  whom,  till  then,  they  had  thought 
was  only  good. 


MARKOF. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

A    FRESCO. 

THE  next  day,  when  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  b< 
to  shine,  our  friends  left  the  pilgrims'  house. 
They  were  eager  to  run  about  at  liberty,  and  wished  to 
see  everything.  After  a  walk  which  brought  them 
back  to  the  Monastery  dying  with  hunger,  they  heard 
that  Father  A  rsdne  had  sent  for  them  to  take  some  tea 
with  him.  They  went  in  haste  to  what  the  archi- 
mandrite called  his  cell,  and  which  was  in  reality,  a 
pretty  little  two  story  house  with  a  rez-de-chausste, 
built  of  bricks,  bright  and  clean,  and  perfumc-d  with  a 
sweet  odor  of  old  incense,  that  had  clung  to  the  clothes 
and  furniture  through  many  long  years. 

The  monk  was  awaiting  them  in  his  small  dining- 
room,  where  the  samovar  boiled  merrily,  sending  forth 
clouds  of  vapor  even  up  to  the  windows.  Some  little 
rolls  of  a  remarkable  whiteness  filled  a  basket,  and 
in  order  not  to  condemn  his  guests  to  the  spare  diet  of 
the  convent,  Father  Arsene  ordered  some  butter  and 
cream  to  be  brought  —  articles  that  were  reserved  I'm- 
the  sick  and  the  infirm.  Our  friends  did  justice  to  the 
breakfast,  after  which  Ddmiane  talked  about  music,  as 
was  natural. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  choristers?"  asked  the 
archimandrite,  who  was  happy  at  last,  to  be  able  to  ask 
the  question,  whose  answer  he  had  not  wished  to  hear 
the  day  before. 


126  MARKOF. 

"  It  was  magnificent,  it  was —  I  cannot  say  what  it 
was.  I  feel  that  I  do  not  amount  to  anything  with  my 
miserable  violin,  beside  the  human  voice.  Where  did 
you  find  those  voices,  Father  Arsene  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  find  them,  they  came  here  quite  of  them- 
selves. Every  one  here  sings  true." 

"Yes,  but  there  was  something  else  besides  the  accu- 
racy in  the  voices,  there  was  —  there  was  something 
which  I  can  neither  name  nor  define,  that,  which  makes 
one  voice  different  from  another,  and  which  makes 
them  sing  a  thousand  times  better  here,  than  at  the 
Seminary." 

Father  Arsene  laid  his  hand  gravely  on  the  young 
man's  shoulder. 

"  There  is  something  else  in  them  in  truth,  my  friend, 
—  when  you  have  found  it  in  your  violin,  when  it  shall 
sing  as  my  men  sang  last  night,  as  they  sing  every  day, 
moreover, — you  will  be  a  great  artist, — and  only  then. 
If  ever  you  become  proud,  and  you  will  be  so,  for  the 
sin  of  pride  is  the  very  essence  of  our  nature, —  remem- 
ber my  choir  of  monks." 

Ddmiane  became  thoughtful,  Father  Arsene  smiled. 

"Come,"  said  he,  in  a  very  encouraging  tone,  "let 
us  go  up  stairs  and  see  my  paintings."  Our  friends 
followed  him  to  the  stairway. 

The  first  story  was  composed  of  two  rooms  and  a 
dressing-room,  which  were  nicely  furnished  though 
without  any  luxury;  it  was  the  bishop's  apartment 
when  he  came  on  his  pastoral  round ;  the  archimandrite 
occupied  above  lodgings  that  were  similarly  arranged, 
but  which  were  much  smaller  and  humbler.  As  Demi- 


MARK  OF.  1'JT 

ane  was  wondering  at  the  small  size  of  these  rooms, 
the  old  man  opened  a  little  door  that  led  into  a  dnrk 
corridor,  then  another  door,  and  the  young  men  who 
had  followed  him,  found  themselves  in  a  sort  of  / 
that  overlooked  the  plain  and  the  valley  of  the  Be*rd- 
sina. 

"  Here,"  said  Father  Arsene,  uis  my  walk,  on  the 
days  when  I  cannot  go  out,  when  I  have  the  gout.     Do 
you  not  think  that  this  is  worth  more  than  to  In: 
few  superfluous  square  metres  in  my  apartment  ?  " 

Ddmiane  could  not  grow  weary  looking  at  the  land- 
scape that  wore  the  golden  hues  of  autumn,   at    the. 
great  black  pine  trees  which  stood  out  bold  and  sharp 
on  the  pale,  yellow  masses  of  the  slender  birch  tn 
the  faded  verdure  of  the  meadows,  and  his  eyes  fe; 
on  color  and  form,  as  his  ears  had  been  intoxicated  by 
the  music  in  the  church.     He  felt  a  thousand  new  sen- 
sations which  he  was  unaware  of  before,  and  which  he 
could  not  even  divine,  but  whose  confused  intuition 
threw  him  into  a  sort  of  troubled  ecstasy. 

As  he  turned  to  ask  a  question,  he  was  quite  sur- 
prised  to   see   the   walls   of  the   loggia  covered  with 
paintings,  and  forgetting  what  he  was  about  to  asl. 
approached  to  examine  them  better. 

It  was  the  exact  reproduction  of  the  land  scape  which 
he  had  under  his  eyes;  the  little  river,  the  dismantled 
bridge,  the  plain,  and  the  white  roads  th;  1  the 

hills,  all  were  there  ;  but  on  the  rising  ground  the  artist 
had  placed  a  battery  of  artilleiy,  battalions  in  the  plain  ; 
combatants  and  corpses,  all  was  dimmed,  worn  I 
by  time,  but  an  extraordinary  truthfulness  gave  to  this 


128  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

work,  which  was  more  like  a  colored  engraving  than  a 
picture,  a  striking  appearance  that  provoked  one's 
attention  almost  rudely. 

"  It  is  the  battle,"  said  the  archimandrite  who  had 
followed  De'miane's  movement. 

"What  battle?" 

"  The  one  that  respected  the  Saviour's  face  on  the 
monastery  door,  and  that  left  us  so  many  corpses  to 
bury." 

"The  XII  year?" 

Father  ArsSne  made  an  affirmative  sign  of  his  head. 
The  twelfth  year,  such  is  the  name  by  which  Russians 
designate  without  periphrases  and  without  adjectives 
that  bloody  epoch.  The  two  words  evoke  at  once,  a 
world  of  memories  and  thoughts,  and  after  sixty  years, 
one  is  surprised  to  find  the  trace  of  it  still  bleeding  in 
the  hearts  of  the  peasants  and  humble  people. 

"But  how  did  it  happen  that  any  one  should  have 
had  an  idea  of  painting  three  great  pictures,  each  one 
of  which  is  as  large  as  a  room,  in  this  place  exposed  to 
the  wind  and  snow  ?  " 

"It  was  done  during  the  battle, "  Father  Arsene 
replied.  "When  the  misfortune  happened,  the  archi- 
mandrite of  that  time  sent  for  a  painter,  from  where  I 
do  not  know,  to  repair  the  frescoes  of  our  church, 
which  were  much  damaged.  The  artist  had  been  at 
the  Monastery  for  several  months,  and  worked  a  little 
every  day,  when  the  French  army  passed  near  here  on 
its  retreat.  We  were  blockaded,  and  he  with  us.  He 
had.  come  to  this  height  to  witness  the  spectacle  of  the 
combat,  and  he  found  it  so  fine,  so  heroic,  that  he  went 


MARK  OF.  1'J'I 

for  his  brushes,  and  hastily  traced  on  the  wall  which 
was  covered  with  plaster,  the  scene  under  his 
You  see  here,  the  uniforms  of  the  French;  there,  tin; 
grey  capotes  of  our  troops;  that  General  down  then- 
has  his  head  torn  away  by  a  shell,  which  you  see  in  the 
wall,  over  his  shoulders." 

Demiane  went  to  see  the  shell,  which  had  carried  off 
a  piece  of  the  landscape. 

"Well,  the  painter  was  working  there,  just  at  the 
moment  when  the  shell  struck  the  wall;  how  was  it 
that  he  was  not  wounded?  It  was  the  design  of  Provi- 
dence to  warn  him  of  his  danger  without  hurting  him. 
The  man  remained,  nevertheless,  and  finished  his  work 
in  the  midst  of  a  hail-storm  of  bullets,  for  he  served  as 
a  mark.  He  did  not  even  perceive  it,  so  they  have  told 
me,  so  much  did  the  ardor  of  his  work  absorb  him  from 
the  entire  world,  and  he  never  left  his  brush,  until 
there  remained  not  an  inch  of  wall  to  cover." 

Demiane  listened  with  his  eyes  wide  open. 

"I  understand  that!"  said  he,  enthusiastically,  "he 
only  thought  of  painting.  There  you  see,  Victor,  that 
is  also  a  calling.  I  would  like  to  have  been  that  man ; 
he  loved  his  art." 

"He  was  not  a  great  artist,  however,"  added  Father 
Ars£ne  with  a  smile,  "but  he  was  an  earnest  man,  and, 
see,  the  Divine  hand  has 'preserved  his  work,  for,  after 
fifty  years  it  remains  almost  the  same  as  it  was  the 
first  day." 

"Painting  remains,*'  murmured  Demiane,  "music 
flies  away." 

"  Now   you   are  jealous !  "    said   the   archimandrite, 
8 


130  MARK  OF. 

pinching  his  ear.  "  Music  remains,  because  it  is  printed^, 
and  because  every  one  can  play  or  listen  to  it,  while  if 
you  had  not  come  here,  you  could  not  have  seen  these 
paintings." 

"Yes,"  sighed  the  young  man,  "the  composer  sur- 
vives, but  the  poor  performer — " 

"No  ambition,  my  son,  no  ambition.  Be  contented, 
if  you  cannot  do  more,  with  giving  a  few  moments  of 
pure  enjoyment  to  those  who  listen  to  you,  and  do  not 
envy  that  to  which  you  cannot  attain.  It  would  be  a 
wrong  feeling." 

They  descended  the  stairs,  and  a  few  hours  later  the 
diligence  carried  away  the  two  brothers  on  the  road  to 
Moscow. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  1  °,  1 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

FURNISHED    APARTMENTS. 

FATHER  KOUZMA  was  very  much  moved  at  his 
sons'  desertion,  and  with  his  proper  wrath  was 
mingled  a  great  deal  of  sorrow.  He  vaguely  felt  that 
he  had  not  shown  enough  affection  towards  Dt'miane, 
and  at  the  same  time  not  enough  solicitude.  Without 
explaining  it  to  himself  very  clearly,  he  felt  he  had 
done  wrong  in  allowing  the  young  boy  to  grow  up 
in  full  liberty,  almost  without  any  rule,  and  entirely 
without  any  duties.  He  was  incapable  of  appreciating 
the  force  of  the  artistic  feeling  which  drew  his  son  into 
another  career,  but  he  could  understand  that  it  was  too 
late  to  bend  under  the  yoke  of  a  seminary,  that  head 
which  until  then  had  never  known  any  other  law  than 
its  own  good  pleasure.  The  result  of  these  reflections 
was  to  put  more  bitterness  into  the  poor  man's  heart, 
but  also,  more  indulgence,  and  when  Monsieur  R«»n 
after  having  let  the  first  wave  of  anger  pass,  began  to 
speak  of  it  again,  and  asked  him  what  he  intended 
doing  in  the  face  of  the  accomplished  fact,  the  j»: 
answered,  that  he  could  not  let  his  sons  die  of  hunger. 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  the  physician  replied,  tranquilly ; 
"but  they  will  not  die,  be  sure  of  it:  they  have  too 
great  a  desire  to  live  !  " 

"If  he  had  only  left  me  my  Victor!"  the  father 
sighed. 


132  MARK  OF. 

"Yes,  you  have  always  had  a  preference  for  your 
first-born,  and  it  was  this  preference  which  estranged 
the  younger  from  you;  one  is  punished  for  such  injus- 
tice, Father  Kouzma,  and  roughly  punished.  Victor 
attached  himself  to  Demiane,  precisely  because  he  felt, 
without  realizing  why,  the  need  of  repairing  your 
indifference  in  regard  to  his  brother,  and  now  the  elder 
has  followed  the  younger  in  order  to  compensate  him 
for  his  distant  home." 

"It  is  you  who  are  the  cause  of  it  all!"  grumbled 
the  priest,  with  a  chagrined  air ;  if  you  had  not  given 
him  a  violin,  none  of  this  would  have  happened ! " 

"Then,  something  else  would  have  happened,"  the 
physician  philosophically  replied;  "but  you  may  be 
assured  that  Demiane  would  never  have  become  a 
sheep  of  your  fold." 

Without  stopping  to  notice  the  irreverence  of  this 
metaphor,  Father  Kouzma  sighed  and  promised  to  send 
ten  roubles  a  month  to  his  sons  to  help  them  to  live,  as 
soon  as  they  should  have  sent  him  their  apologies,  and 
moreover,  he  pledged  himself  to  let  them  try  to  earn 
their  own  living  with  the  aid  of  this  small  help  for 
two  years,  and  not  to  use  his  paternal  authority  to 
recall  them  to  him,  except  in  the  case  of  their  conduct 
becoming  reprehensible  or  scandalous. 

When  the  announcement  of  the  success  of  their 
adventure  reached  the  two  brothers,  they  were  occupied 
in  installing  themselves  in  an  extremely  modest  room, 
situated  in  a  populous  quarter  of  Moscow.  In  spite  of 
their  modest  pretensions,  they  found  they  could  not 
dream  of  taking  rooms  to  themselves,  on  account  of  the 


MARKOF.  133 

price,  and  were  obliged  to  fall  back  on  furnished  houses, 
where  they  let  corners. 

It  is  difficult  for  a  French  reader  to  imagine  that  one 
can  hire  a  corner  and  not  a  room,  though  the  room 
might  be  a  closet  as  narrow  as  a  corridor,  without  fire, 
without  air,  but  furnished  at  least  with  a  door,  which 
gives  to  its  occupant  the  illusion  and  vanity  of  solitude. 
However,  as  Russian  lodging-houses,  even  the  poorest 
of  them,  are  generally  divided  into  very  large,  badly 
disposed  rooms,  which  lead  into  each  other  without 
any  halls  or  outlets,  one  sees  that  the  occupants  of  the 
last  room  in  the  row  must  pass  through  all  the  other 
rooms  whenever  they  please.  Therefore,  in  order  to 
overcome  this  inconvenience,  they  invented  movable 
partitions  —  not  partitions,  properly  speaking,  but  sepa- 
rations, formed  either  by  screens,  or  curtains  supported 
by  rods,  these  rods  themselves  being  held  by  small, 
turned  wooden  columns,  which  cost  very  little  and  ha\  o 
a  most  graceful  effect. 

The  proprietors  of  lodging-houses  did  not  stop,  how- 
ever, half-way  on  so  fine  a  road.  A  large  chamber  fur 
a  single  gentleman  ?  Why,  they  would  not  earn  enough 
even  to  save  them  from  dying  of  hunger  !  Being  given 

a  rent  of it  did  not  suffice  them  to  earn  so  much  on 

the  combined  rents,  it  was  necessary  that  each  room 
should  bring  in  the  maximum. 

Owing  to  the  system  of  separations,  they  placed  two 
beds  in  one  room,  then  three,  and  finally  four,  one  in 
each  corner  when  the  chamber  happily   did  not   have; 
its  stove  precisely  in  an  angle,  which,  unfortunate1, 
the  masters  of  lodging-houses,  is  almost  the  absolute 


134  MARKOF. 

rule.  However,  room  can  be  made  elsewhere  than 
in  Heaven,  and  as  a  corner  does  not  always  imply  a 
right  angle,  they  made  corners  in  the  acute,  between 
the  stove  and  the  wall;  only  such  are  let  at  a  lower 
price.  The  most  desirable  ones  are  next  the  window, 
because  it  is  lighter  there.  However,  in  winter,  the 
window  corners  fall  slightly  into  disrepute,  on  account 
of  the  cold. 

The  two  young  men  hoped  to  be  able  to  procure 
themselves  a  room  in  which  there  would  be  only  two 
corners,  and  where  consequently,  they  would  be  alone 
together,  but  that  kind  being  very  much  sought  after, 
they  could  not  find  one. 

Their  sojourn  in  the  hotel  where  they  alighted,  made 
quite  a  hole  in  their  little  fortune,  and  they  decided 
to  take  corners  in  the  largest  room  they  could  find, 
and  having  seen  one  day  a  little  piece  of  paper  stuck 
on  a  window  bearing  these  words  :  "  To  let,  two  corners 
for  two  quiet  young  men,'"  they  looked  at  each  other 
and  smiled. 

"  Are  we  quiet  young  men,  Victor  ?"  asked  De*miane. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  the  good  fellow,  and  they 
entered  the  house. 

The  bargain  was  arranged  after  some  discussion 
touching  the  question  of  price,  and  that  very  evening 
they  found  themselves  in  possession  of  their  respective 
beds.  The  tenants  of  the  other  corners  made  their 
appearance  about  nine  o'clock.  One  was  a  medical 
student  who  carefully  concealed  his  nihilistic  opinions, 
for  they  had  already  caused  him  to  be  sent  away  from 
quite  a  number  of  corners ;  the  other  was  a  furrier 


MARKOF.  186 

apprentice,  who  brought  in  his  clothes  the  most  abom- 
inable odor  of  furs,  but  neither  one  nor  the  other 
seemed  displeased  with  the  looks  of  their  new  com- 
panions. 

"  You  belong  to  the  clergy,  do  you  not?"  the  student 
asked  Victor,  after  having  looked  at  him  for  a  minute 
without  saying  anything. 

"Yes,"  replied  he  innocently ;  "why?" 

"  That  can  be  seen  at  once." 

And  that  was  the  only  information  which  the  young 
man  could  obtain.  The  two  old  corners  began  to 
smoke  abominable  cheap  tobacco,  which  made  Victor 
very  ill,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  show  it.  Ddmianc  also 
frowned,  but  to  overcome  the  nausea,  he  accepted  a 
cigarette  from  his  neighbor  the  student,  and  this 
homeopathic  remedy  succeeded  perfectly  with  him. 

"Well,  one  is  not  so  badly  off,"  said  the  young  musi- 
cian, on  awakening  the  next  morning,  when  he  saw  tin; 
two  other  corners  had  disappeared,  doubtless  to  at t  cm  I 
to  their  daily  occupations. 

"  No,  not  too  badly.  If  they  would  only  not  smoke 
that  abominable  tobacco  which  smells  like  cabbages ! ' 
said  the  poor  boy,  smiling. 

"  One  gets  accustomed  to  it,  you  will  see !  Now,  we 
will  take  a  glass  of  tea  to  console  ourselves,  and  then  I 
will  go  to  the  post  to  see  if  there  are  any  lett« 

Two  hours  later,  he  returned  from  the  post-office 
with  so  joyful  a  face,  that  Victor  stood  open-montlicd 
before  him,  not  daring  to  question  him. 

"  Father  has  forgiven  us,"  said  Pt'inianr,  with  a  self- 
contained,  but  eager  vibrating  voice,  as  he  entered. 


136  MARK  OF. 

Victor  threw  himself  on  his  brother's  neck  and  burst 
into  tears.  They  both  sat  on  one  of  their  beds,  De'miane 
holding  his  brother  still  clasped  to  him. 

«  Forgive  me  !  forgive  me  !  "  murmured  he,  "  it  is 
not  my  fault,  De'miane;  I  did  not  wish  to  give  you 
pain,  but  I  was  so  unhappy  thinking  that  our  father 
was  angry  with  us!  I  did  not  say  anything  to  you 
about  it  all  this  time,  but  it  weighed  so  heavily  on  my 
heart,  oh  !  so  heavily  !  " 

He  sighed  deeply,  then  wiped  his  eyes  and  smiled  at 
his  brother. 

"  You  are  an  angel,"  said  the  latter,  "  and  I  am  only 
a  fool.  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  the  sorrow  you 
must  feel,  while  since  our  departure,  I  have  only 
thought  of  music." 

"  It  was  very  natural,"  said  Victor,  excusing  De'mi- 
ane  as  he  always  did ;  for  you,  music  is  everything . 
What  does  our  father  say,  read  me  his  letter ! " 

"  It  was  Monsieur  Roussof  who  wrote ;  we  will  ask 
father's  forgiveness  immediately,  and  then  he  will  write 
to  us  himself,  and,  do  you  know  ?  he  is  going  to  send  us 
ten  roubles  a  month !  " 

"  How  good  he  is!  "  murmured  Victor;  "we  offended 
him,  and  not  content  with  pardoning  us,  he  wishes  to 
help  us." 

De'miane  had  not  considered  it  from  that  point  of 
view;  he  became  grave,  and  meditated  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  He  is  good,"  said  he  at  length,  "  and  I  am  going  to 
make  him  my  humble  excuses  for  myself  and  for  having 
brought  you  away  without  -  his  permission.  If  you 


MARKOF.  1 :;; 

repent  of  having  come,  Victor,  you   must  return  : 
liave   still   enough   money   left   for  your  journey.     I 
would  not  wish  to  have  you  here  \\hile  your  heart   is 
there  with  them." 

Victor  did  not  reply  immediately,  but  when  he  i , 
his  eyes  to   his  brother's  face,  a  iirm,  frank  resolution 
bhont'  in  his  look. 

44 1  will  remain  with  you,  brother,"  said  he ;  "  now 
that  father  has  forgiven  us,  I  have  no  more  sorrow,  no 
more  remorse ;  I  am  happy  to  be  with  you  and  to  be 
able  to  help  you  to  live  in  the  future." 

The  two  brothers  seized  each  other's  hands  and 
looked  at  one  another  with  a  new  tenderness,  a  new 
confidence. 

The  letter  was  soon  written  and  put  in  the  post, 
then  after  a  little  walk,  our  friends  returned  to  their 
home.  Their  dinner  was  of  tea,  bread  and  cheese, 
for  it  was  impossible  for  them,  until  they  had  received 
the  price  of  their  first  month's  lessons,  to  pr< 
themselves  more  costly  daily  fare.  But  the  appe- 
tite usual  to  their  age  and  the  good  news  they  had 
received  in  the  morning,  made  them  find  the  meal 
delicious. 

"Now,"  said  Ddmiane,  when  they  had  devoured  the 
last  crumbs  and  drained  their  tea-pot,  ••  I  am  p»iiig  to 
give  ourselves  a  little  concert.  -My  lingers  are  itching 
1  have  not  touched  my  violin  for  a  week." 

He  plunged  into  the  famous  trunk  at  tin 
turbing  its  skillful  packing,  and  div\v  forth  tin- 
object,  together  with  his  exercises  whieh  never  left  him. 
The   pages  were  worn   at   the   corners,  but  Demiano 


138  MARK  OF. 

knew  the  studies  by  heart,  and  if  he  looked  at  the 
book  as  he  worked,  it  was  simply  from  a  spirit  of  disci- 
pline. He  made  himself  a  rack  with  the  samovar,  and 
conscientiously  began  the  first  exercises. 

He  had  not  played  more  than  ten  minutes  when  a 
moan  was  heard  behind  the  door.  Paying  no  attention 
to  it,  he  continued.  A  second  moan,  accompanied  by 
deep  sighs,  followed  the  first  without  loss  of  time. 
Surprised,  he  stopped,  with  his  bow  in  the  air ;  silence 
was  re-established.  After  a  moment  devoted  to  per- 
suading himself  that  he  had  not  heard  aright,  Ddmaine 
continued  his  exercises. 

It  was  not  a  moan  that  answered  him,  but  a  modu- 
lated groan,  that  began  by  a  prolonged  yawning,  like  a 
door  that  is  closed  against  its  will,  and  finished  in  a 
frightful  howl. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  De*miane  stopping  again. 

No  one  replying,  he  took  up  his  bow,  but  just  as  he 
was  touching  the  strings  the  same  noise  was  repeated. 

"  It  is  the  dog  of  the  proprietress ! "  exclaimed  Victor, 
running  to  the  door. 

A  frightful  black  spaniel  entered,  rolling  his  "  loto- 
ball "  eyes,  as  the  people  say,  his  "  convex  ones "  as 
refined  people  express  it,  in  a  much  less  picturesque 
manner.  Fat,  old,  aggressive,  with  his  hair  slightly 
worn  off  on  his  back,  this  creature,  ill-favored  by  nature, 
entered,  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and  looked 
at  our  friends. 

"Do  you  wish  to  come  in?"  said  Demiane  to  it. 
"  Very  well,  sit  down  there  and  leave  us  in  peace." 

Protesting  with  all  the  anger  that  was  kindled  in  his 


MARKOF. 

frog-like  eyes,  the  King-Charles  declared  he  would  net 
Bit  down  ;  but  the  young  man  looked  at  him  no  LM 
seeing  which,  the  animal  carefully  sat  down. 

"  Bzz  !  "  sang  the  bow  on  the  lowest  note. 

"  Ouaouh !  "  replied  the  dog,  raising  his  nose  tov 
Heaven,  in  a  perfectly  vertical  line,  to  such  a  <1 
that  one  could  no  longer  see  his  head,  which  was  hid- 
den by  his  fat,  bald  neck,  which  was  red  in  spots. 

"  He  does  not  like  music,  Ddmiane,"  said  Victor,  with 
an  alarmed  air. 

"  Go  away,  then  !  "  said  our  friend,  "  no  one  has  a 
right  not  to  love  music." 

But  the  dog  had  no  desire  to  go  away,  and  to  the 
pressing  invitation  which  was  given  him,  accompani.  I 
by  a  demonstration  that  was  still  friendly,  but 
decided,   he    replied   by   showing    his   teeth,   and    by 
remaining  obstinately  seated. 

"Give  him  some  sugar,"  suggested  Victor,  who  did 
not  like  violent  measures. 

With  some  regret,  for  sugar  was  dear,  Ddmiane  took 
a  bit  of  the  precious  substance  and  gave  it  to  the  dog. 
The  latter  allowed  himself  to  be  put  out  of  the  mum, 
and  after  having  carefully  shut  the  door,  the  y«- 
musician  returned  to  his  violin.     At  the  end  of  t\\<» 
measures,  the  most  heart-rending  cries  made  the  IHMIM- 
resound  from   the   cellar  to  the  garret,  but   Dcinianc 
was  determined  to  pay  no  attention  to  them,  an-i 
ing  Victor  to  close  his  ears,  he  kept  on  pi\;  with 

all  his  might  for  five  minutes. 

Suddenly   the    door    opened    and   the    proprietress 
pale  with  fury,  entered,  her  dog  under  her  arm. 


140  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  You  have  not  common  sense,"  she  exclaimed,  "  to 
make  a  poor  beast  cry  in  that  way.  Why  have  you 
come  here  with  your  music  ?  I  have  only  quiet  people 
here,  and  I  forbid  you  to  play  on  the  violin,  do  you 
hear?" 

"  You  should  have  written  it  on  the  paper  stuck  on 
the  window,"  replied  De'miane,  who  felt  his  anger  rise 
to  his  face. 

"  It  was  there,  sir !  " 

"  How  was  it  there  ?  I  do  not  know  how  to  read, 
then." 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was  there ;  it  said  that  we  did  not  wish 
any  but  quiet  people." 

"  Well,  we  are  not  quiet  people,  then  ?  " 

"No,  people  are  not  quiet  when  they  play  music, 
and  such  music !  If  it  were  on  the  piano,  at  least  one 
would  know  what  it  was." 

"Does  your  dog  like  the  piano?"  De*miane  asked, 
calmly. 

"  He  cannot  abide  it,  the  poor  dailing !  But  you  are 
going  to  stop,  or  else  you  will  leave."* 

"  We  will  leave,  dear  madame ;  I  should  be  a  wretch 
to  annoy  your  dog." 

When  she  saw  the  young  man  was  so  decided  not  to 
yield,  the  proprietress  became  less  belligerent. 

"Perhaps  he  will  accustom  himself  to  it,  the  dear 
treasure,"  said  she;  "you  can  try,  but  if  he  does  not, 
you  must  go." 

The  treasure  did  not  accustom  himself  to  it,  on  the 
contrary,  and  after  half  an  hour  Demiane  declared  he 
would  rather  walk  on  his  knees,  than  to  listen  to  sucb 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  Ill 

a  concert  any  longer.  But  as  they  had  paid  for  a 
\veek  in  advance,  and,  as  our  friends  were  not  rk-h 
enough  to  assume  two  rents  at  once,  Deniiane  took 
his  violin  under  his  arm,  and  during  four  pleasant  days 
that  the  clemency  of  Heaven  granted  him,  he  went 
to  charm  the  birch-trees  of  the  Champg-dea-Vierges, 
outside  of  the  city,  where  no  one  listened  to  him,  and 
where  the  stray  dogs  did  not  seem  to  possess  tin; 
same  antipathy  to  music,  as  did  the  frog-eyed  specimen 
of  their  race. 


142  MARKOF. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PETIT-GKIS. 

TTHHE  two  brothers  soon  learned  that  it  is  very  difn 
.A.  cult  to  find  one's  self  a  lodging,  when  one  plays 
the  violin.  For  several  weeks  they  wandered  from. 
corners  to  corners,  and  were  always  sent  away,  either 
by  the  proprietors,  or  by  their  room-mates,  whose  medi- 
tations were  troubled  by  Deiniane's  exercises.  At 
length,  Monsieur  Roussof  having  found  another  pupil 
for  the  young  musician,  our  friends  were  rich  enough 
to  take  a  room  to  themselves,  and  it  was  with  a  heart 
swelling  with  pride  that  Victor  set  forth  in  search  of 
that  Eden. 

After  some  days  of  unprofitable  running  about,  he 
reached  an  out-of-the-way  quarter,  quite  at  the  end  of 
the  city,  near  the  Nijni-Novgorod  railway  station,  and 
came  upon  a  wooden  house,  with  a  rez-de-chaussee  and 
a  garret,  out  of  which  the  ingenious  proprietor  had 
made  a  small  room,  which  was  very  old,  so  much  so, 
that  it  was  gently  inclining  towards  the  passers-by,  and 
threatened  some  fine  day  to  fall  into  the  small  narrow 
garden  that  separated  it  from  the  street.  The  defaced 
logs  of  which  it  was  built,  made  it  look  like  a  peasant's 
cabin,  but  window-shades  of  very  white  calico  descended 
to  a  third  of  the  windows,  which  were  filled  inside  by 
plants  covered  with  a  rich  foliage.  Victor  stopped  and 
looked  at  the  modest  dwelling.  —  "  How  comfortable 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  1  1 3 

Dne    might   be    there,"  he  said  t<»   himself:     "if    there 
svere  only  any  part  of  it  to  let!"     The;  little, 

square  bit  of  paper  attached  to  one  of  the  wind. 
he  approached,  and  read  with  a  blush  of  satisi'aetii.n: 
"To  let,  a  room  for  two  bachelor  gentlemen." 

Full  of  hope,  he  rang  at  the  little  door,  which  had 
formerly  been  painted  yellow;  a  woman  of  about  forty 
years  of  age,  with  a  sad  air,  and  poorly  clad,  can 
open  it  for  him,  and  he  at  once  felt  a  sort  of  sympathy 
for  her. 

"Are  you  the  mistress  of  the  house?"  said  he  to  her 
without  ceremony;  "I  have  come  to  see  the  room 
which  is  to  be  l&t." 

"Come  in,"  said  the  sad  woman;  "here  it  is." 

She  opened  a  door  and  Victor  saw  a  pretty  little 
room,  furnished  with  two  iron  beds,  a  toilet  table,  an 
ttagere  and  another  table.  The  wall  at  the  end  of  the 
room  was  occupied  by  an  old  piano,  mounted  on 
round  legs  which  were  ornamented  by  brass  capitals, 
in  the  style  of  the  First  Empire;  it  was  a  frightful  piano, 
which  must  have  had  a  tone  as  shrill  and  as  sharp  as 
the  noise  of  grasshoppers  in  summer.  The  paper,  that 
was  bright  blue,  gave  a  glad,  peaceful  look  to  the  little 
room. 

"If  the  piano  is  in  your  way,"  said  the  pmprie; 
with   a   melancholy  tone,  "it  can  be  removed,  but  I 
hardly  know  where  it  could  be  put." 

"It  can  remain  there,"  said   Victor,  concealing  his 
delight.     "  But   I   ought  to  tell  you  that  my  bi  • 
plays  the  violin;  do  you  think  it  will  disturb  . 

"No,"  said  she.     "That  will  not  disturb  me.     Mj 


144  MARKOF. 

husband  also  used  to  play  the  violin  at  private  ballg 
but  he  is  dead." 

"Perhaps  then,  it  might  give  you  pain?"  said  Vic 
tor,  who  was  always  full  of  compassion  towards  humai 
misery. 

"  No.  I  think  rather,  it  will  give  me  pleasure 
There  is  another  tenant  in  the  next  room;  I  will  asl 
him  in  regard  to  it,  but  I  do  not  believe  it  will  aimer 
him ;  he  works  at  a  German  musical-instrument  maker'}- 
and  he  brings  home  violin  handles  and  all  sorts  o 
wonderful  things,  to  work  on  for  his  own  account 
evenings,  and  on  feast-days." 

Victor  remained  thoughtful  for  a  while ;  but  a  mai 
who  made  violins  could  not  dislike  music. 

"  And  how  much  is  your  room  a  month?  " 

"Eight  roubles  with  the  linen  and  the  samova 
included." 

It  was  a  great  deal  compared  with  our  friends'  re 
sources.  Victor  bargained  for  an  hour  and  obtained  j 
reduction  of  two  roubles,  which  left  a  price  fabulously 
cheap. 

"  And  for  your  food,"  said  the  still  afflicted  proprie 
tress,  "when  you  wish  it,  I  will  serve  you  a  dinner  fo 
twenty-five  kopecks  for  each  person,  a  soup  and  on< 
other  dish." 

"  Agreed,"  replied  the  young  man. 

He  hastened  to  make  sure  of  this  palace,  and  thei 
returned  to  his  lodgings  full  of  joy  and  pride.  HI 
praised  himself  mentalty  in  regard  to  his  negotia 
tion,  and  it  needed  but  little  to  make  him  belie v< 
himself  a  diplomatist. 


M  A  K  K  o  F.  145 

Ddmiane  was  none  the  1  \\ith  tin-  blue 

•oom;  it  was  a  little  out  of  tin-  \vay,  it  v 
•emote  from  every  tiling,  luit: 

"You  will  see  how  pretty  it  will  be  in  tin-  spri: 
said  Victor.     And  thru  they  \\ere  alone  in  their  mum. 

That  privacy  could   nut  cost  too  much.     Their  i. 
.ng    was    accomplished    without    much    expense:    they 
;jich  took  their  trunk  by  one  of  its  handle.-,  and.  < 
iiig  all  their   fortune   with    them,  entered    their   new 
Iwelling-place,  one  fine  evening  in  Noveml 

When   Ddiniaiic  had  seated  himselt'  and  had  \\ '. 
ais  moist  brow,  he  remarked : 

"It  seems  to  me,  that  we  are  going  to  be  very  happy 
md  are  to  begin  a  new  existence." 

They  had  scarcely  had  time  to  look  at  their  furni1 
when  some  one  knocked  at  their  door. 

"It  must  be  the  proprietress  who  has  mme  U) 
if  we  wish  the  samovar,"  said  Victor. 

He   opened   the    door   hurriedly.      It   was   not 
proprietress,  but  a  little  blond  man,  so  blond  th;r 
hair  looked  white,  with  a  red,  scant   beard  and   china- 
blue   eyes,  which  were    as   bright    and    expressive   as 
L;hina-blue  eyes  generally  are  not. 

"Good-evening,"  said  he,  sto pping  at  th.    thn-hnld. 
"I  am  your  neighbor,  and  I  live  in  "om. 

The  proprietress   told  me   that  one  of  you  p' 
violin.     I  make   violins  myself.     Permit  nake 

your    acquaintance,    and   to   introduce   myself:     . \ndn- 
St6panitch  Ladof,  from  the  government  of  Voronije, 
fallen  in  Moscow  by  chance  and  employed  at  Mil 
the  musical-instrument  maker  at  Ivanosk.. 
9 


146  MARK  OF. 

After  having  delivered  this  speech  in  one  breath,  he 
bowed  and  stood  awaiting  an  answer. 

"  Victor  and  De'miane  Markof,"  said  the  young  musi- 
cian, smiling.  "  I  shall  be  a  great  artist  in  the  future  if 
I  can  succeed  in  becoming  a  musician,  and  my  brother 
is  my  prophet,  while  he  is  waiting  for  something  better ; 
we  are  the  sons  of  a  priest,  from  the  government  of 
Koursk,  and  much  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

The  young  men  shook  hands,  and  Andre  entered 
their  room. 

"  Do  you  see  that  piano  ?  "  said  he,  pointing  to  the 
forlorn  instrument ;  "  I  took  it  completely  to  pieces  last 
year  to  learn  how  it  was  made,  and  I  put  it  together 
again  all  by  myself.  By  the  way,  I  do  not  mean  to 
say  it  is  better  on  account  of  that.  Do  you  play  the 
piano  ?  " 

"  A  little,"  said  Demiane,  "  but  so  little  that  it  is  not 
worth  mentioning." 

The  little  blond  man  began  to  laugh. 

"  I  knew,"  said  he,  "  a  man  who  played  the  flute  and 
who  learned  the  piano,  in  order  to  accompany  himself 
when  he  played,  when  he  had  no  one  to  render  him 
that  service.  I  do  not  pretend  to  advise  you  to  do  the 
same,  but  a  violinist  should  always  know  how  to  play 
the  piano,  were  it  only  to  be  able  to  put  his  accom- 
panist right  when  he  makes  a  mistake.  Gentlemen, 
will  you  come  to  my  room  to  take  a  cup  of  tea ;  you 
have  something  else  to  do  to-night  than  to  occupy  your- 
selves about  your  household ;  I  shall  be  happy  to  have 
you  accept  my  hospitality." 

The  odd  little  man  led  his  guests  into  the  next  room 


M  A  I;  K  ()  F.  117 

which  presented  the  strangest  appearance.      Pi«  ces  of 
ivory,  ebony  and  mahogany  were   lying  /"//-///-//  in  a 
large  Russian  bowl,  that  once  had  been  red  and  yellow, 
but  whose  color  was  now  entirely  rubbed  off  l»v  the 
knocks  from  so  many  corners.    An  inextricably  tai. 
skein  of  strings  of  all  sizes,  was  fastened  to  a  nail, 
hung  down  to  a  table,  which  was  placed  across  the 
window  and  was  covered  with  many  differently  shaped 
tools;  a  rather  decided  odor  of  glue  filled  the  apart- 
ment, but  for  the  moment  it  was  overpowered  by  tin- 
perfume  of  hot  tea,  and  the  strong  smell  of  the 
smoke  from  the  samovar.     A  plate  full  of  rusks  and  a 
basket  containing  two  small  loaves  of  white  br- 
proof  of  the  hosts'  munificence. 

"  Do  not  pay  any  attention,"  said  he,  "  to  all  those 
articles  that  are  on  the  walls;  there  is  no  evil  spirit 
whatever  in  them." 

Naturally,  our  friends  looked  intently  at  the  things 
to  which  they  were  not  to  pay  any  heed.     Their  shapes 
were,  indeed,   calculated  to  suggest  some  witchcraft, 
some  secret  incantation.     They  were  simply  the  boxes 
and  handles  of  violoncellos  and  violins,  but  these  unfin- 
ished pieces  had  something  mysterious  and  fant 
about  them ;  the  black  holes,  especially,  in  the  middle 
of  the  boxes,  suggested  the  idea  of  &om€  demon  ready 
to  jump  forth.    When  the  proprietress  went  aw. 
having  brought  the  cream,  a  strange  noise  was  heard  in 
one  of  the  boxes, — the  largest  one  which  was  si 
over  Andre's  head.    This  noise,  which  was  like  a  i. 
was  repeated,   then  a  scratching   made    the 
instrument  resound.     The  two  brothers  looked  at 
other  with  a  sort  of  shudder. 


148  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"Is  there  an  evil  spirit  there?"  said  Andre*,  who 
seemed  by  nature  imperturbable.  "  If  there  is  one,  let 
him  show  himself.  Appear  !  "  cried  he  in  a  thundering 
voice,  stretching  his  arms  towards  the  box. 

The  moan  was  repeated  feebly  and  sharp  as  a  needle, 
and  the  same  scratching  was  repeated  with  new 
strength.  Just  as  Andre*,  with  a  candle  in  his  hand, 
was  approaching  the  box  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  so 
unusual  a  manifestation,  and  our  friends  were  looking 
at  each  other  with  an  indefinable  anxiety,  the  head  of  a 
little  grey  cat  appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  violoncello's 
fcounding-board,  surmounting  two  little  paws  that  were 
amply  furnished  with  claws,  and  which  were  trying  to 
raise  the  kitten's  body. 

"What,  is  it  you  who  have  caused  us  such  alarm?" 
fcaid  Andre,  who  it  seemed  had  observed  his  guests 
without  looking  as  though  he  were  noticing  them ;  "  it 
is  you,  Petit-Gris?  How  the  devil  did  you  succeed 
in  getting  in  there?  You  jumped  in  it  from  the 
bureau  ?  And  you  took  a  siesta  there  ?  And  now  you 
want  some  cream  ?  How  will  you  manage  to  get  down 
at  present?  It  is  not  everything  to  occupy  an  elevated 
position,  one  must  know  how  to  leave  it  nobly;  ask 
ministers  about  it,  when  they  put  others  in  their 
places ! " 

Petit-Gris,  who  was  greatly  perplexed,  had  succeeded 
in  stationing  itself  on  its  four  paws  on  the  edge  of  the 
hole,  but  the  distance  from  its  post  to  the  table  was  a 
formidable  one  for  such  a  little  creature.  For  though 
it  raised  its  back  and  swung  its  tail  for  a  balancing-pole, 
its  equilibrium  was  very  unsteady. 


MARK  OF.  149 

"Would  not  one  say  it  was  European  politics?" 
said  Andre*,  seeing  it  oscillate.  "  Well,  come,  my 
friend,  and  learn  that  greatness  is  sometimes  a  very 
painful  burden." 

He  took  the  cat  carefully  under  its  body,  raised  it 
in  the  air,  and  turned  it  thus  around  his  head,  then 
placed  it  on  the  table,  when  this  animal,  which  was 
yet  destitute  of  moral  education,  and  probably  des- 
tined never  to  have  any,  went  immediately  to  the 
cream-pot. 

"Wait!"  said  Andre*,  stopping  it  on  its  way,  not 
without  encountering  an  energetic  resistance.  He 
poured  out  some  cream  for  it  in  a  saucer,  and  the  cat 
began  to  lap  it  with  evident  satisfaction,  after  which 
it  sat  down,  and  winked  its  eyes  at  the  company,  while 
passing  its  tongue  over  its  chops  with  voluptuous  slow- 
ness. 

"  So  young,"  said  Andre*,  as  he  poured  out  some  tea 
for  his  new  neighbors,  "  so  young  and  it  already  pos- 
sesses all  the  vices !  Ah !  gentlemen,  the  world  is  well 
made !  Nothing  is  made  better !  Petit-Gris  was  born 
lazy,  a  glutton  and  a  thief,  and  admire  Providence ! 
Here  am  I,  just  at  the  right  moment,  with  a  violoncello 
box  for  his  siesta,  and  cream  for  his  supper!  What 
foresight ! " 

The  two  brothers  not  understanding  his  irony,  kept 
silence,  for  want  of  knowing  what  to  say ;  Victor  ven- 
tured, however. 

"Is  that  your  cat?"  he  said,  timidly. 

"There  is  where  shines  forth  in  all  its  beauty,  the 
occult  power  that  governs  us,"  Andre*  replied;  "no, 


150  MARKOF. 

gentlemen ;  no,  my  friends,  as  I  dare  to  call  you,  Petit- 
Gris  is  not  mine ;  it  belongs  to  my  landlady,  and  it  is 
myself  whom  it  loves !  Not  only  does  it  love  me,  but 
by  a  mysterious  law  of  affinity,  I,  who  do  not  care  for 
it,  shelter  and  feed  it.  It  sleeps  on  my  own  pillow, 
gentlemen,  and  at  night,  when  I  move  and  disturb  it, — 
involuntarily,  I  beg  you  to  believe  —  it  gives  me  a 
stroke  with  its  paw  to  make  me  return  to  the  order 
and  submission  which  is  the  position  of  man  in  relation 
to  the  beast,  when  once  he  has  allowed  it  access  to  his 
domicile." 

"Do  you  like  cats?"  asked  Victor,  who  understood 
less  and  less. 

"  I  ?  not  at  all !  I  do  not  love  nor  fear  them ;  they 
are  nothing  more  to  me  than  other  animals." 

"Well,  then,  why  are  you  so  kind  to  that  one?" 
asked  De*miane,  who  felt  there  was  something  hidden 
under  this  apparently  trifling  babbling. 

"  Because,"  said  Andre*,  laying  the  palm  of  his  hand 
on  the  edge  of  the  table,  "  if  I  permit  that  animal  to 
enter  my  home,  I  also  owe  it  hospitality,  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word.  It  comes  to  me  with  confidence ; 
should  I  betray  it  in  that  noble  sentiment  and  make  my- 
self despised  by  a  cat — such  a  cat!  a  little  bit  of  a  cat, 
—  by  having  acted  disloyally  towards  it?  I  ought  to 
have  forbidden  it  access  to  this  room,  I  had  not  energy 
enough  to  do  it,  and  besides,  cats  slip  in  everywhere ! 
I  did  resist  it  a  little,  but  feebly ;  it  felt  my  inferiority 
and  has  made  use  of  it  from  that  time  to  domineer 
over  me  completely.  It  is  the  eternal  history  of  man 
and  woman,  of  Sampson  and  Delilah,  of  peoples  and 


MARKOF.  151 

governors.     Petit-Gris,  you  are  at  once  a  moral  and 
historical  lesson ! " 

The  cat  looked  in  turn  at  the  three  young  men, 
opening  and  shutting  its  green  eyes,  whose  pupils 
looked  like  black  lines  scarcely  defined  in  their 
tres.  The  young  men  listened  with  astonishment,  and 
Victor  asked  himself  if  their  host  were  not  a  little 
insane,  when  the  latter,  turning  towards  Demiane,  >a'nl 
to  him : 

"How  old  are  you?  if  my  question  is  not  im- 
proper." 

"I  am  eighteen  years  of  age,"  replied  the  young 
man,  a  little  ashamed  at  not  being  any  older. 

"And  you?" 

"  I  shall  soon  be  twenty,"  replied  Victor,  with  assur- 
ance. 

Twenty  years  is  a  respectable  age,  and  one  can  con- 
fess to  it  with  a  bold  front. 

"  You  are  very  young  to  try  the  great  plunge  !  But 
one  gets  used  to  it  all  the  sooner.  I  was  younger  than 
yourselves  when  I  took  my  great  leap  in  the  slough  of 
life." 

"You  have  not  always,  then,  been  a  musical-instru- 
ment maker?"  asked  Ddmiane,  who  at  last  seized  a 
tangible  thread. 

"  Ah !  you  perceived  that,  young  man ?    Not  bad  I'm- 
a   beginner.     No,  my  neighbors   and   friends,   I  li;i\v 
been   a   musical -instrument    maker   only   four    y< 
Tin  til  then,  I  was  a  law -student  in  the  University  of 
this  good  city  of  Moscow,  and  I   had    only  one 
more  of  work  before  me  to  obtain  my  license,  when  I 


152  MARK  OF. 

became   a   musical-instrument   maker  —  a    fine    trade, 
gentlemen ! " 

"Of  your  own  will?"  asked  Demiane,  emboldened 
by  the  certainty  of  being  on  the  road  to  the  truth. 

44  Of  my  own  will,  if  one  wishes  it.  Yes,  in  this 
way,  that  I  preferred  to  be  a  musical -instrument 
maker  than  to  be  a  bootmaker  or  a  clerk  in  a  bazaar ; 
but  it  was  not  of  my  own  will  that  I  ruined  my  career; 
why  should  I  hide  it  from  you  ?  It  is  not  a  mystery, 
and  then  you  are  not  one  who  would  try  to  harm  me ! 
I  was  compromised  in  a  scandal  at  the  University,  like 
a  fool  as  I  was ;  I  grazed  Siberia ;  fortunately  I  went 
no  farther.  But,  there  was  no  longer  any  professional 
career  possible  for  me,  and,  ma  foi!  I  took  up  making 
violins  !  That  is  my  history." 

Demiane  remained  silent;  after  a  moment  he  ex- 
pressed his  thoughts  thus : 

44  You  said  just  now, —  I  beg  your  pardon  —  that  you 
were  a  fool  for  having  taken  part  in  that  scandal ;  it 
was  a  demand  I  suppose;  did  you  wish  unreasonable 
thing- 

••  Ah !  no,  nothing  unreasonable  !  But  it  was  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  done,  which  was  stupid  I  One 
should  not  make  a  row  when  one  has  the  right  on  one's 
side !  One  should  await  one's  time,  and  when  it  has 
come,  then  speak.  It  is  not  by  breaking  chairs  that 
abuses  are  reformed  !  " 

Victor   was    nearly    dead    with   fatigue    and  hardly 
heard  the  conversation  his  brother  was  holding  with 
their  new  friend  ;    after  half  an  hour,  Ddmiane  i 
and,  giving  his  hand  to  their  id: 


MARK  OF. 

"  I  think  that  I  shall  importune  you  very  often,  for  I 
have  everything  to  learn,  and  you  seem  to  me  to  be  a 
good  professor." 

"I  will  teach  you  all  you  wish,"  replied  the  latter, 
"  even  how  to  make  violins,  if  you  like." 

"  To  make  violins  ? "  repeated  Victor,  waking  up 
suddenly. 

"  And  projects  for  laws  for  an  extremely  far  off  time, 
a  time  when  neither  Petit-Gris,  nor  you,  nor  I  shall  be 
any  longer  of  this  world,"  said  Andre",  as  he  lighted 
;hem  to  their  room. 


154  MARKOF. 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

VICTOR     CHOOSES    A    PROFESSION. 

VICTOR  passed  his  evenings  with  Benjamin  Rous- 
sof;  the  latter  would  have  preferred  De'miane, 
but  without  doubt  his  studies  gained  more  from  the 
guidance  of  the  elder  brother,  who  was  more  serious 
and  whom  it  was  more  difficult  to  annoy,  in  spite  of 
his  great  timidity.  Victor  possessed  a  fund  of  firm 
patience,  while  his  brother  had  only  will.  Patience 
and  persistence  are  often  confounded,  and  yet  they 
essentially  differ;  the  latter  will  admit  of  impatience 
and  rebellion,  which  the  former  forbids.  Demiane 
knew  how  to  resist  Fate,  to  overcome  material  ob- 
stacles, to  struggle  with  the  difficulties  of  mechanism, 
and  with  those  which  his  lazy  or  wilful  pupils  gave  him 
constantly,  for  he  wished  to  succeed,  and  he  was  deter- 
mined to  undergo  a  good  deal  for  that  end  —  but 
true,  patience  that  begins  ten  times  over  the  same  work 
which  has  been  destroyed  by  the  capricious  hand 
destiny,  that  takes  it  up  again  without  wrath,  without 
concealed  anger,  and  without  even  hidden  bad  humor, 
this  was  Victor's  cross,  and  was  to  abide  with  him. 

One  day  just  as  De'miane  was  preparing  to  go  out  to 
give  his  lessons,  the  number  of  which  had  increased, 
Victor  timidly  touched  him  on  his  arm  and  stopped  him. 

"  Would  it  be  disagreeable  to  you,"  said  he  to  him, 
"to  have  me  earn  my  living  by  manual  labor?" 


MARKOF.  155 

"That  depends,"  replied  D&niane  smiling,  for  he 
thought  he  was  joking.  "If  it  were  to  cut  wood  or 
jart  bricks,  I  would  be  very  glad  to  have  you  keep 
rom  it." 

"  It  is  not  that,"  said  Victor  more  and  more  confused, 
is  though  he  were  confessing  some  fault ;  "  but  Andre* 
tsked  me  if  I  would  like  to  work  with  him  at  his 
employer's ;  one  earns  a  great  deal  of  money  it  seems, 
vhen  one  has  become  expert —  I  would  like  that  occu- 
)ation  if  you  would  not  object." 

Demiane  became  serious;  in  realizing  that  he  knew 
lothing  and  that  he  had  everything  to  learn,  he  put 
limself  on  the  road  to  wisdom,  and  on  that  path,  he 
lad  come  upon  much  that  he  knew  very  well,  but 
diose  utility  had  not  been  apparent  to  him  until  then, 
^mong  other  things,  he  had  recognized  that  a  life  of 
>rivation  is  fine  and  comfortable  as  regards  one's 
uture,  but  that  in  the  present,  it  demanded  a  singular 
Abnegation  in  one's  every  day  life.  He  had  also  seen, 
hat  it  pained  his  brother  to  be  earning  less  than  him- 
elf  —  not  that  it  hurt  his  pride,  poor  Victor  having 
nade  for  a  long  time  a  sacrifice  of  earthly  vanities  — 
>ut,  it  hurt  his  fraternal  love,  and  he  reproached  himself 
or  costing  his  brother  more  than  he  brought  him.  A 
BSS  prejudiced  judge  would  have  taken  into  account, 
hat,  by  reason  of  the  inevitable  necessity  of  better 
lothes  and  more  clean  linen,  De*miarie  who  went  out 
ftener,  spent  also  a  great  deal  more  than  himself,  but 
factor  neither  could  nor  would,  look  at  things  from 
his  point  of  view. 

"  I  would  like  so  much  to  make  violins,"  he  insisted 


156  MARK  OF. 

in  a  beseeching  tone ;  "  you  know  very  well  that  th< 
one  you  have  is  not  sufficiently  good;  when  I  kno^ 
how,  I  will  make  you  one." 

De'miane  drew  his  brother  to  him  ;  they  seldom  kissec 
each  other  now,  for  they  had  passed  the  age  of  youth 
ful  abandon,  but  from  time  to  time  a  warm  clasp  die 
both  of  their  hearts  good. 

"  You  know  very  well  that  I  cannot  refuse  it,"  saic 
the  young  musician,  "  and  yet  I  ought  to,  for  you  wil 
fatigue  yourself,  and  perhaps  make  yourself  ill." 

"  Oh !  as  to  that,  never,"  said  Victor,  laughing,  sc 
happy  was  he.  "  You  know  my  natural  laziness ;  1 
think  you  can  rely  on  that  to  assure  yourself  that  ] 
shall  never  do  too  much." 

Demaine  shook  his  head.  In  their  small  householc 
it  was  Victor  who  had  taken  upon  himself  all  th< 
domestic  duties;  he  brought  the  water,  arranged  the 
room,  and  busied  himself  with  the  petty  details  of  life 
and  this  position  seemed  quite  a  natural  one  to  them. 

"Well,"  said  the  musician,  "do  as  you  please 
brother,  and  it  will  be  for  the  best." 

The  next  morning,  Victor  followed  Andre*  to  Miller's 
the  musical  instrument  maker.  What  he  learned,  anc 
what  he  earned  there,  are  things  little  interesting  ir 
themselves,  and  he  did  not  talk  much  about  his  appren 
ticeship.  When  he  came  home,  he  had  a  happy  look 
his  health  seemed  to  improve  from  the  change  o: 
surroundings  and  the  long  walks  that  were  the  con 
sequence  of  it.  Monsieur  Roussof,  on  hearing  of  his 
determination,  showed  more  friendship.  Benjamin 
alone  made  fun  of  him  for  three  days,  and  then,  no  one 
thought  any  more  about  it. 


MARKOF.  157 

A  few  weeks  later,  one  Sunday,  while  our  friends 

eTQ  busy  introducing  a  little  order  in  their  home, 
rhich  was  sadly  compromised  by  Victor's  daily  ali- 
enee, Andre*  knocked  at  their  door  and  iminediaU-lv 
assed  his  flat  nose  through  the  opening. 

44  Are  you  very  busy  ?  "  said  he  to  them. 

44  Yes  and  no ;  why  ?  " 

44  Because  if  you  had  the  time  this  evening,  I  would 
ake  you  to  a  German  ball;  it  is  quite  worth  the 
rouble." 

44 A  ball  where  one  pays?"  asked  Victor,  who  was 
Iways  economical. 

44  Yes,  a  geselhchaft,  as  they  say  —  a  club,  as  we  call 
The  entrance  fee  is  not  high,  the  style  of  the  club 
ot  being  very  great;  what  do  you  say  to  it?" 

Victor  looked  at  Ddmiane  hesitatingly.  For  Lis 
art,  he  felt  no  desire  whatever  to  go  and  see  a,ny- 
ne,  but  his  brother  had  risen  with  a  certain  eagerness. 

44  How  much  is  the  entrance  fee  ?  " 

44 Thirty  kopecks;  it  was  Miller's  employes  whn 
ntroduced  me  there;  they  will  present  you,  for  it  is 
ecessary  to  be  presented,  but  that  does  not  bind  one 
o  very  much.  You  can  get  intoxicated  on  condition 
lat  you  won't  make  any  noise;  if  you  do,  they  will 
urn  you  out  of  doors — with  but  little  ceremony,  I 
onfess — but  not  altogether  without  regard  for  you." 

Demiane  looked  at  Victor,  then  low  end   his  «• 
e  had  a  great  desire  to  see  a  ball,  were  the  bull  only  a 
rerman  geselhchaft,  for  he  had  never  given  the 
iance  into  the  world,  even  through  a  half-opened  door, 
ut  he  did  not  dare  to  say  so. 


158  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  They  will  make  fun  of  me,"  said  Victor,  hes 
tatingly.  He  understood  his  brother's  desire,  but  L 
was  so  afraid  of  being  turned  into  ridicule.  "  Go  thei 
without  me,  Demiane." 

"  No,"  replied  the  latter,  firmly.  "  I  will  go  n 
where  without  you." 

"  While  you  are  giving  yourselves  up  to  this  battl 
of  generosity,"  said  Andre*,  '•  I  am  going  to  brush  m 
best  clothes ;  a  dress-coat  is  not  a  necessity,  you  kno 
—  with  Germans !  " 

His  head  disappeared,  and  Victor  looked  at  h 
brother  with  a  supplicating  look. 

"  I  beg  of  you,"  said  he,  "  go  and  amuse  yourself, 
will  stay  here  and  read  a  book  which  Andre*  lent  n 
a  month  ago,  and  which  I  have  not  yet  been  able  1 
begin." 

With  a  very  decided  shake  of  his  head,  Demiar 
answered  no.  The  ball  had  a  certain  kind  of  attractic 
for  him,  which  he  would  never  have  dared  to  defir 
and  which  he  did  not  feel  capable  of  confronting  alon 
He  was  afraid  of  what  he  might  feel,  and  he  thoug] 
he  divined  something  in  it  that  was  a  little  unhealtl 
in  a  certain  way,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  assume  all  tl 
responsibility  of  such  a  step.  Not  that  he  feared  b 
coming  intoxicated  or  being  in  the  society  of  drunke 
people ;  he  had  seen  drunkards  at  their  village,  ar 
many  flasks'  were  emptied  at  his  father's  house  on  tl 
occasion  of  the  parish  feast,  and  he  had  been  the  cal 
witness  of  comical  scenes  which  did  not  shock  him,  bi 
which  would  have  excited  the  imagination  of  anothe 

What  he  feared  was  the  word  ball,  which  was  tl 


M  A  RK  O  F . 

picture  he  made  to  himself  of  a  whirlwind  in  which 
women  with  low-necked  dresses  and  iln \\vrs  in  their 
hair  swept  past  him,  as  lie  had  once  seen  them  at 
Madame  Roussofs,  \\hcn  lie  was  very  \oung,  mi  the 
occasion  of  Benjamin's  baptism. 

Victor  did  not  think  of  .similar  things  :  he  had  a  hor- 
rible fear  of  hearing  himself  ridicule  d  on   account  of 
his  deformity.     He  said,  voluntarily:     "  I  am  a  hunch- 
back," and  it  did  not  pain  him  ;  lie  went   and  came  in 
the  streets,  indifferent  about  it,  because  he  knew  i: 
inevitable,  because  he  was  obliged  to  go  out    in 
streets,  and  that  moreover,  he  never  looked  an\  \\ 
except  straight  before  him ;  then,  the  people  are  natu- 
rally charitable,  and  unkind  hearts  who  arc  disposed 
to  make  fun  of  an  infirmity,  are  perhaps  raid    in 

ia  than  anywhere  else,  because  there  respect  for 

nfirmities  of  nature  iss  almost  a  religion. 
He  continued  arranging  the  room  silently  and  a  little 

adly;  his  glance  encountered  De*miane's  every  mo- 
tnent ;  their  hands  met  on  the  same  article,  but  neither 
one  nor  the  other  wished  to  speak,  and  the  silence 
weighed  on  them  heavily.  It  was  not  that  they  were 

lightly  vexed  with  each  other,  far  from  it.  but  ea<-h  one 

»f  them  had  feelings  which  he  did  not  wish  to  commu- 
nicate to  the  other,  Ddmiane  through  modesty,  Victor 

hrough  false  shame. 
The  latter,  seeing  that  his  brother  would  not  change 

lis  resolution,  plunged  into  a  new  current   of  thought. 

They  would  be  obliged  one  day  or  another  to  abandon 

he  solitude  in  which  they  lived.  Would  lie  have  the 
sad  courage  to  allowr  Demiane  to  confront  alone  the  tor- 


160  MARKOF. 

ments  of  his  first  concert  ?  Monsieur  Roussof  had  said 
that  the  young  violinist  must  enter  the  Conservatoire 
the  next  winter ;  would  Victor  all  his  life  deny  him- 
self the  pleasure  of  going  there  after  him,  of  being 
present  at  his  examinations,  of  hearing  him  proclaimed 
a  first  prize  candidate,  that  first  prize  about  which  they 
both  dreamed  in  their  hours  of  revery?  The  young 
man  said  in  his  thought  that  he  would  never  forgive 
himself  for  depriving  his  brother  of  so  precious  a 
sympathy  at  that  solemn  moment. 

That  point  gained,  Victor  asked  himself  why  he 
should  not  begin  that  very  day  to  burn  his  ships  and 
to  kill  his  pride,  since  he  would  have  to  come  to  it  one 
day  or  another,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  long.  With  a 
heroism  of  which  he  was  far  from  being  conscious,  he 
put  his  foot  on  what  he  called  his  selfishness,  and,  not 
without  a  secret  pang,  he  decided  that  even  on  that 
very  day,  he  would  empty  in  one  draught  the  cup  of 
humiliation. 

That  will  be  best,  said  he,  in  order  to  persuade  him- 
self that  he  had  only  been  a  coward  until  then;  at 
least,  after  this  trial,  I  shall  have  no  more  fear.  I  shall 
know  what  it  is !  I  am  a  man,  and  I  must  be  brave 
•  and  not  fear  to  throw  myself  into  the  water  if  I  wish  to 
know  how  to  swim. 

After  having  encouraged  himself  in  this  way,  the 
young  man  raised  his  eyes  boldly  to  his  brother's  face ; 
but  the  latter  avoided  his  look,  not  wishing  to  let  him 
read  any  regret  in  his  eyes,  and  he  was  obliged  to  call 
him. 

"Ddmiane,"  said  he  to  him,  "do  you  know,  we  must 


M  A  RK  O  F  .  1G1 

go  to  this  ball.  I  have  reflected,  and  I  was  wrong. 
We  know  nothing  of  the  world;  it  is  neccssai-v  t»> 
learn  how  others  do;  and  it  will  not  be  by  remaining 
in  our  shell  that  we  shall  ever  know  it.  If  you  do  not 
think  to  the  contrary,  we  will  go  with  Andre.'* 

"And  if  they  make  fun  of  }TOU?"  continued 
Ddmiane,  moved  in  his  turn  at  the  thought  of  a  ] 
ble  humiliation  happening  to  his  dear  elder  brother. 
Without  wishing  to  listen  to  Victor's  protestations,  who 
assured  him  that  it  had  never  occurred,  and  never 
would,  Ddmiane  shook  his  strong  arms :  "  If  any  one 
makes  fun  of  you,  brother,  he  will  not  do  so  twice,  I' 
answer  for  it !  " 

And  at  once  our  friends  began  their  preparations  for 
what    they   called   with   the    boldness   of  innocence: 
"  Going  into  the  world." 
10 


162  MARK  OF. 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

GOING     INTO     THE     WOULD. 

THE  G-esellscJiaft  was  held  in  the  fourth  story  of  i 
high  and  ugly  house,  in  one  of  the  finest  street* 
in  the  German  quarter  of  the  city ;  it  had  low  ceiling; 
which  were  as  smoke-begrimed  as  possible  and  it  waf 
badly  lighted  by  candles,  which  wonderfully  resemblec 
tallow  ones.  These  two  ball  rooms  communicated  witl 
a  restaurant  decorated  by  the  name  of  "  buffet"  when 
a  quantity  of  all  kinds  of  pork-meat,  together  with  bee: 
and  schnapps,  was  sold  in  abundance.  As  etiquetti 
and  elegance  are  the  first  laws  of  polite  society,  al 
these  rooms,  comprising  a  corridor  called  by  the  narm 
of  "smoking-room,"  were  ornamented  with  curtains  ii 
the  embrasures  of  the  doors ;  but  the  doors  had  beei 
taken  off  in  order  to  facilitate  communication,  and  thi 
perfume  of  garlic-sausages,  mingled  agreeably  with  tha 
of  Hamburg  pipes  and  the  horribly  strong  cigars  tha 
the  Germans  prefer  to  sweet-scented  tobacco. 

The  first  impression  was  painful  to  the  olfactory  nerve 
of  our  friends,  who  were  but  little  accustomed  to  sucl 
complicated  mixtures,  and  then  —  one  gets  used  t< 
everything  —  they  ceased  to  suffer  from  it  after  a  fe\ 
moments.  Victor  was  surprised.  De'miane  was  disap 
pointed ;  he  found  the  ceilings  low,  the  air  heavy,  th 
illumination  poor,  the  women  red  faced,  and  the  mei 
badly  dressed.  He  had  dreamed  of  something  else 


MARKOF.  168 

Alas"!  how  seldom  in  our  lives  do  we  find  that  the  real  it  \- 
equals  our  dreams.  There  are  so  many  who  pass  away 
with  all  their  illusions  dispelled. 

The  music  sounded  and  the  men  hastened  towards  the 
women,  who  seated  along  the  wall,  under  the  yellow 
light  of  the  candles,  were  threatened  with  a  deluge  of 
tallow,  —  happily  the  prudent  majordomo  had  nut  been 
sparing  in  placing  glass  rims  around  them  —  and  evi-rv 
one  began  to  turn  methodically  to  the  sounds  of  one  of 
Strauss'  waltzes.  O  Strauss !  king  of  the  waltz,  was  it 
for  Teuton  feet  that  you  gave  wings  to  the  JY»/y/-'/-/i 
Blattern  to  the  Blauen  Donau  and  to  so  many  other 
daughters  of  your  brain?  Did  you  think  that  the 
Viennese  alone  would  dance  to  your  melodies  on  the 
tips  of  their  agile  toes?  Vienna  waltzes  have  gone 
around  the  world ;  they  are  danced  in  contre-tempis  in 
Paris,  and  in  measure  in  Moscow,  as  in  Berlin  and  even 
in  Potsdam ;  but  there,  large  flat  feet  turn  round  on  all 
their  length  at  once,  like  an  elephant's,  and  for  all  the 
melody  can  do,  it  cannot  succeed  in  detaching  from  the 
ground  the  bodies  which  balance  themselves  with  the 
grace  o£  a  white  bear  digesting  his  food,  but  they  are 
always  in  time !  Now,  which  is  better  in  an  a-sthetical 
point  of  view :  to  waltz  in  time  and  in  the  most  un- 
graceful fashion,  or  in  centre-temps,  in  opposition  to  com- 
mon sense,  as  in  Paris,  but  with  that  smiling 
tura  of  people  who  think  themselves  perfect,  and  i 
imagine  anything  better. 

D^miane  could  not  have  solved  the  question ;  lie 
gravely  watched  the  couples  passing  before  him,  ami 
asked  himself  how  they  managed  not  to  tread  on 


164  MARK  OF. 

other's  feet.  Having  found  this  problem  too  difficult, 
he  contented  himself  by  looking  at  the  women  who 
were  around  him.  They  were  for  the  most  part  good, 
fat  cooks,  whose  large  red  hands  made  their  cheap  gloves 
split  open;  the  ladies'-maids  could  be  recognized  by 
their  more  elegant  dress  and  impertinent  manners.  One 
can  never  understand  the  distance  that  separates 
German  lady's-maid  from  her  compatriot,  a  cook;  the 
latter  class,  moreover,  feel  their  inferiority,  and  content 
themselves  by  getting  richer  all  the  faster,  which  is 
memorable  compensation. 

There  were  also  present  some  Russians,  married  to 
Germans,  and  looking  somewhat  out  of  place ;  but  when 
one  dances,  language  is  of  but  little  importance,  anc 
these  ladies  waltzed  with  as  great  a  zest  as  though  they 
had  known  Goethe  by  heart. 

"  Well,"  said  Andre*  to  our  friend,  "  are  you  nol 
going  to  dance  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  said  De*miane,  alarmed,  "  I  do  not  know 
how!" 

"  What  does  that  matter?  One  never  knows  how  th( 
first  time !  Do  you  imagine  that  all  these  good  people 
have  had  a  dancing-master  ?  Do  as  the  others  do  !  " 

The  waltz  ended,  a  quadrille  was  formed,  and  one 
saw  in  every  direction,  anxious  looking  men,  parleying 
on  the  subject  of  a  vis-a-vis. 

"  Go  !  "  said  Andre,  pushing  the  young  man  forwardJ 

"  I  don't  know  any  one." 

"  Neither  do  I,  in  the  way  of  women,  at  least ;  butj 
never  mind  that,  I  am  going  to  present  you.  To  which] 
one?  Here  are  two  very  nice  —  " 


MARKOF.  105 

"I  do  not  know  German,  almost  nothing  of  it  —  " 

"They  are  speaking  Russ  in  that  corner,  almost  as 
well  as  you  can  speak  German;  there  is  a  re<l-haired 
one,  a  brunette,  and  a  flaxen-haired  blonde;  to  which 
of  them  do  you  wish  me  to.  present  you  ?  " 

Demiane  hesitated,  and  his  companion  dragged  him 
before  the  young  brunette,  and  said  aloud : 

"Monsieur  Markof!"  After  which  he  turned  his 
sack  and  went  to  join  Victor,  who,  half-hidden  by  a 
curtain,  looked  on  enchanted. 

The  young  brunette  bowed  and  smiled ;  Markof  ven- 
tured to  ask  her  for  the  quadrille,  while  confessing  in 
a  low  tone  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  dance. 

"  Oh  !  that  is  nothing,"  replied  his  partner;  "do  you 
speak  German  ?  " 

"  Very  little  ;  and  you,  do  you  speak  Russ  ?  " 

"  Not  much.     But  that  is  nothing." 

Since  everything  was  nothing,  everything  was  for  the 
)est,  and  Demiane,  directed  to  do  so  by  his  partner 
rorth  in  quest  of   a  vis-a-vis;  he  found  one  who  was 
running  about  from  group  to  group  for  the  same  pur- 
pose, and  two  minutes  later,  Ddmiane  made  his  d<  fmt 
n  the  world,  pushed  and  dragged  by  his  partner,  \\liu 
made  him  turn  round  exactly  like  a  stick. 

It  was  with  intense  relief  that  he  saw  a  time  of 
repose  come;  while  the  dancers  on  the  othei ->i»!e  <•!'  tin; 
quadrille   executed  in  their  turn    the   first    fi^nr- 
spoke  to  the  young  lady,  who  was  fanning  h«-i>t-lf  < 
jetically : 

"  It  is  tiresome,"  said  he  to  her,  "  not  to  be  able  to 
express  what  one  thinks." 


166  M  A  K  K  O  F  . 

The  young  girl  looked  as  though  she  thought  there 
were  a  thousand  ways  of  expressing  what  one  thinks, 
and  that  one  can  always  discover  at  least  one  of  them ; 
but  she  did  not  know  enough  Russ  to  say  so  with  mod- 
esty, nor  her  cavalier  enough  German  to  understand  it, 
without  having  it  fully  expressed.  She  contented  her- 
self with  throwing  him  a  coquettish  glance,  and  with 
laughing  rather  loudly,  without  restraining  herself. 

"What  is  your  name?"  said  Demiane,  feeling  en- 
couraged. 

"Caroline  Neuman;  and  you,  Monsieur  Markof? 
What  is  your  first  name  ?  " 

"  Demiane." 

"  It  is  pretty." 

"  Caroline  is  prettier." 

*'  I  do  not  think  so." 

u  It  is  your  turn,  there ! "  cried  the  voice  of  the 
duncing-manager,  and  Demiane  threw  himself  wildly 
into  the  quadrille,  provoking  a  burst  of  laughter  among 
the  dancers.  Ashamed  of  his  mistake,  he  stopped  short, 
and  Caroline  was  obliged  to  take  him  by  the  arm  in 
order  to  bring  him  back  to  the  regular  step.  This  inci- 
dent put  them  on  a  very  intimate  footing,  and  when 
the  quadrille  was  over,  Demiane  had  the  promise  of  a 
second  contre-danse. 

"  You  must  also  try  a  waltz  or  polka,"  said  the  young 
lady,  with  a  winning  smile. 

"  I  do  not  know  how !  " 

"  I  will  teach  you.  Come  and  engage  me  for  the 
first  polka." 

And  thus  Demiane  found  himself  provided  with  a 
dancing  and  a  German  professor  at  the  same  time. 


M  A  RKO  F 


167 


Delighted  at  this  brilliant  debut,  and  not  thinking  of 
|  engaging  another  partner,  he  went  to  join  his  brother. 
"It  is  amusing,  is  it  not?"    said  he  to  him,  while 
| wiping  his  brow,  for  it  was  very  hot. 

"  Why,  yes ! "  replied  Victor  amiably,  who  \\  ;u 
(beginning  to  feel  sick  at  his  stomach,  thanks  to  the 
united  odors  of  the  food  and  tobacco.  "  You  have  been 
[dancing?  You  have  amused  yourself?  Ah!  well,  so 
inch  the  better." 

"And  you,  will  you  not  dance  ?  " 
"  How  can  you  think  of  such  a  thing  ?     I  amuse 
Imyself  looking  at  you  doing  so  ;  it  is  very  pretty,  and 
(then,  you  dance  well." 

This  blindness  of  fraternal  love  made  D6miane  laugh, 
ind  Victor  joined  with  him,  and  then  sent  him  away  to 
[enjoy  his  success.     Emboldened  by  two  or  three  turns 
|  of  the  waltz  which  he  had  tried  without  too  much  dizzi- 
less,  intoxicated  by  the  warm  air,  by  the  light,  and  by 
Ithat   indefinable    something   that   is   always   ready  to 
[burst  forth  from  twenty-year-old  brains,  like  corks  from 
champagne  bottle,  D£miane  noticed  a  little  blonde, 
diom  her  cavalier  had  just  escorted  to  her  chair.     1 1  •  • 
>ut  his  arm  around  her  waist  and  they  both  started  to 
tingle  in  the  vortex,   pitilessly  knocking  against  tin-, 
>ther  waltzers,  but  waltzing  all  the  same,  if  you  ph 

When  the   orchestra  stopped,  Ddmiane  returned  to 
Caroline,  who  favored  him  with  a  scene  of  jealousy. 
"  What,"  said  she,  "  it  was  I  who  taught  you  how  to 
mce,  and  then  you  go  and  dance  with  another  ?  " 
"But,"  answered  Demiane  judiciously  enough,  "you 
Iso  danced  with  other  men !  " 


168  M  A  K  K  O  F. 

"  Oh !  I !  it  is  not  the  same  thing !  It  was  in  order 
not  to  be  compromised  by  you." 

At  the  thought  that  he  could  compromise  a  young 
lady,  Demiane  became  crimson  with  shame  and  satis- 
faction. This  idea  opened  new  horizons  to  him,  and 
might  have  opened  many  others,  but  for  his  naivete* 
and  his  want  of  worldly  knowledge ;  and  Caroline  was 
obliged  to  make  up  for  it.  .They  began  by  mending 
their  quarrel,  arid  then  Demiane  learned  that  she  was  a 
dressmaker  ;  that  she  left  her  workshop  at  eight  o'clock 
at  night,  that  she  lived  near  the  church  of  the  Saviour, 
and  that  she  always  went  home  alone.  Consequently 
he  announced  to  her  that  he  should  go  the  very  next 
evening  to  see  if  she  had  told  him  the  truth  ;  she  assured 
him  she  would  never  forgive  him  for  such  mistrust,  and 
they  both  were  perfectly  certain  that  they  had  given 
each  other  a  rendezvous  the  next  evening  at  eight 
o'clock,  which  inspired  them  with  the  most  contagious 
merriment. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock,  and  the  ball  was  at  the  height 
of  its  beauty,  except  that  the  ladies  were  too  red-faced, 
and  that  the  gentlemen  talked  too  loud,  thanks  to  the 
refreshments,  when  a  group  of  young  men  gathered 
under  the  chandelier.  They  laughed  and  talked  as 
loudly  as  possible,  like  people  who  have  no  secrets ;  they 
were  evidently  the  flower  of  the  club.  The  orchestra 
was  refreshing  itself  also,  and  the  violinist  had  gone  to 
join  them.  It  was  he  who  filled  the  position  of  chef 
d'orchestre,  and  at  the  same  time  played  the  first  violin, 
so  that  he  had  a  right  to  especial  consideration.  After 
talking  a  moment,  he  accepted  a  glass  of  beer  and  went  ; 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 


169 


toward  the  buffet  with  his  friends.  This  libation  was 
not  the  first  one,  and  the  artist  stairs-red  slightly  as 
he  rejoined  the  group.  Ill  luck  would  have  it,  that 
he  then  observed  Victor,  who  had  kept  himself  hall- 
hidden,  but  who,  emboldened  by  the  company's  paying 
no  attention  to  him,  had  ventured  leaving  the  tut« 
shelter  of  his  curtain. 

"What,  is  that  Esop?"  exclaimed  the  musician, 
with  a  loud,  sarcastic  laugh.  ''Where  do  you  fall 
from,  my  friend?  Go  away  and  hide  your  hump;  we, 
[only  want  handsome  men  here  like  ourselves  ! " 

He  drew  himself  up  with  satisfaction,  and  passed  his 
fingers  through  his  hair  which  was  covered  with 
pomade.  De*miane  rushed  into  the  middle  of  the  group 
I  who  had  joined  the  musician  in  chorus : 

"  It  is  my  brother  !  "  cried  he,  "  and  I  forbid  you  to 
Imake  sport  of  him  ;  he  is  worth  more  in  his  little  finger 
[than  you  in  all  your  fat  body  !  " 

He  spoke  in  Russ,  but  every  one   understood  him. 
|With  his  flashing  eyes,  his  hair  thrown  back,  his  nos- 
brils  trembling,  he  was  so  handsome  that  Mademoiselle 
[Caroline  fell  desperately  in  love  with  him,  and  all  the 
romen  cried  out  in  one  voice : 

He  is  perfectly  right !  men  are  cowards !  " 

"  A  poor  cripple ! "  screamed  a  voice  that  was  so 

larp  it  overpowered  the  tumult. 

It  was  Caroline's. 

The  assemblage,  suddenly  waxing  tempestuous,  was 
livided  into  two  parties.  The  master  of  ceremonies, — 
tor  the  G-esellschaft  possessed  one,  no  less  than  the 
1/OTirt,  addressed  a  slight  reproach  to  the  musician,  in 


170  MARKOF. 

regard  to  his  want  of  charity  and  proper  behavior. 
The  latter  who  was  not  quite  sober,  and  felt  that  he 
himself  was  in  fault,  forced  a  passage  in  a  brutal 
manner  through  the  crowd  of  men,  pushing  aside  at 
the  same  time,  not  a  few  women,  who  began  to  scream 
like  peacocks. 

"Ah!  they  blame  me,"  exclaimed  he,  "on  account 
of  a  miserable  hunchback,  who  has  stolen  in  among 
us  ?  That's  very  well,  that's  very  well,  find  some  one 
who  will  make  you  dance." 

He  plunged  into  the  vestibule,  seized  his  overcoat 
and  his  galoches,  which  had  a  place  to  themselves, 
and  grumbling,  disappeared  down  the  stairway. 

All  looked  at  each  other  with  astonishment.  No 
cTief-cT orchestre,  no  longer  any  violinist,  therefore  no 
more  dancing.  Public  opinion  turned  immediately 
against  De*miane. 

"  It  is  your  fault,"  cried  twenty  hoarse  voices,  "  what 
have  you  come  here  for  ?  Put  the  strangers  out !  Here 
we  are  without  any  music." 

"Without  music?"  cried  Ddmiane,  "is  that  what 
disturbs  you  ?  He  has  left  his  violin  behind  him,  the 
fool !  I  will  play  you  some  music !  " 

He  bounded  on  the  platform,  seized  the  violin  which 
the  capell-meister  had  left  to  the  care  of  his  subordinates, 
in  the  haste  of  his  flight  and  vigorously  attacked  a 
waltz  of  Lanner's,  which  was  then  very  fashionable  and 
which  he  had  played  a  hundred  times.  The  other 
musicians  sprang  quickly  to  their  instruments  and 
caught  up  with  him  as  best  they  could ;  couples  were 
formed  and  put  themselves  in  motion,  while  public 


MARKOF.  171 

pinion,  changing  its  irrevocable  verdict  for  the  tliinl 
ime  in  five  minutes,  greeted  De*niiane  with  a  frantic 
urrah. 

Impassive,  not  even  deigning  to  smile,  so  miu-li  did 
e  feel  himself  above  the  fantastic  multitude,  the  youn^ 
nan  conducted  his  four  musicians,  as  though  he  had 
ever  done  anything  else  all  his  life.  The  aijn-ll- 
leister's  violin  was  a  good  instrument,  far  above  tin- 
ifice  it  was  made  to  fill ;  and  Ddmiane  experienced  a 
trange  delight  in  hearing  it  resound  in  his  ear,  and  in 
eeling  it  vibrate  on  his  breast;  he  also  felt  a  singular 
ride  in  ruling  the  crowd  that  had  been  so  lately  hostile 
o  him,  and  which  he  now  felt  was  at  his  mercy.  I{» •- 
^retfully  he  saw  the  waltz  end ;  he  would  have  liked 
o  have  played  thus  always,  lost  in  an  atmosphere 
ntoxicating  with  triumph  for  himself  and  with  con- 
empt  for  others. 

When  he  put  down  his  bow,  he  was  surrounded  by 
he  company  who  implored  him  to  continue,  and  the 
nusicians  themselves,  delighted  at  what  might  injure 
heir  leader — are  not  people  always  delighted  at  what 
annoy  a  higher  power  —  offered  their  compliments 
o  Ddmiane. 

"  You  have  a  great  deal  of  talent,"  said   t lie  master 
ceremonies  to  him.     "Will  you  do  me  tin-  honor  of 
accepting  a  glass  of  beer?" 

"On  condition  that  my  brother  is  invited  with 
)emiane  proudly  answered. 

Victor  shared  the  young  musician's  ovation,  and  two 
lours  later  they  left  the  place  with  Andn',  who  had 
milosophically  looked  on  at  the  whole  affair,  without 


172  M'AEKOF. 

being  astonished  at  anything,  and  who  had  cried  out 
repeatedly  in  favor  of  his  friends. 

"  They  asked  me  for  your  address,"  said  he  to  De*mi- 
ane,  "they  will  come  to-morrow  and  offer  you  the 
capell^neister's  bdton.  Be  prepared  for  the  proposition, 
and  do  not  let  yourself  be  dazzled  by  such  a  brilliant 
prospect." 

"It  is  not  possible  !  "  said  Demiane  astonished. 

"  Yes,  since  I  tell  you  so.  Only  if  you  accept,  you 
will  be  overthrown  in  two  weeks'  time,  by  him  whose 
place  you  take  to-day,  and  who  will  be  restored  to 
favor.  You  will  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  making 
your  way,  my  friend.  I  have  studied  you  now  for  three 
months ;  no  one  will  ever  do  anything  with  you,  because 
you  do  not  intrigue  !  " 

It  happened  as  Andre  had  predicted,  and  Ddmiane 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  was  able  to  give  himself 
the  royal  pleasure  of  refusing  a  position. 


MARKOF.  17) 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 
MARKOF'S   VISION. 

THE  winter  ended  quietly.     De*miane  learned  Ger- 
man, which  he  spoke  very  well,  and  Victor  began 
to  manufacture  very  nicely  a  cheap  guitar,  for  tip 
of  amateurs  of  modest  fortune,   when   tin;  spring  re- 
turned to  cover  Moscow  with  that  veil  of  dust,  which 
is  as  natural  to  it  as  leaves  to  forest  trees.     The  young 
musician  was  preparing  himself  to  puss  the  examination 
for  entering  the  Conservatoire,  but  a  new  fear  paraly/rd 
his  fingers  on  the  vibrating  strings:  he  began  to 
the  insufficiency  of  his  first  studies,  and  ask  re  I  hi: 
if  they  would  ever  admit  to  the  great  masters'  It 
a  pupil  endowed  with  so  strange  a  fingering  and  s«» 
audacious  a  handling  of  the  bow.     Monsieur   K          ; 
had  procured  for  him  several  times  tickets  to  coin 
and  he  had  been  able  to  compare  the  playing  of  arti>ts 
with  his  own:    sometimes  with   the   same   passionate 
vehemence,  and  they  played  occasionally  with  lightn- 
and   more    conventional   feeling,  but   the   delicacy    of 
their    shades,  the   perfection    of   their    rendering 
couraged  the  young  man,  who  already  knew  enough  to 
appreciate  the  distance  that  separated  him  fi 
virtuosi. 

One  spring  evening,  he  was  waiting  for  Victor  who 
was  a  little  late,  and  in  order  to  enjoy  the  -SB  of 

a  first  warm,  clear  evening,  after  the  long  rainy  nights 


174  MARKOF. 

of  the  preceding  month,  he  opened  his  window,  wThich 
had  been  recently  freed  from  its  double  panes.  The 
scant  lilacs  that  ornamented  the  small  garden,  were 
budding,  precociously  and  already  the  little  brown 
bunches  could  be  seen  shooting  forth  among  the  pale 
green  leaves ;  it  was  a  promise,  and  D^miane  breathed 
with  delight  the  odor  of  the  newly  born  sap  that  the 
wind  wafted  from  the  neighboring  country.  As  a  good 
scholar,  he  took  up  his  violin,  and  to  charm  away  the 
time  of  waiting,  he  played  some  exercises ;  then,  uncon- 
sciously, his  fingers  quitted  their  well  known  motions 
to  create  some  capricious  sounds,  which  he  allowed  to 
group  themselves  together  by  chance.  A  melody  came 
forth;  it  resembled  those  he  had  played  an  hundred 
times;  but,  after  a  minute,  this  song  arose  and  leaving 
the  known  commonplaces  flew  away  into  space  with 
the  young  man's  thoughts.  He  played,  and  his  mind 
put  on  strong  wings,  that  bore  him  wholly  away,  body 
and  soul,  above  the  little  and  vulgar  things  of  this 
world. 

Demiane,  finding  himself  lost  in  space,  soared  above 
the  small  gray  house,  which  was  so  peacefully  still  and 
in  which  no  artificial  light  disturbed  the  sweetness  of 
the  declining  day.  The  quiet  square  through  which 
no  one  passed  except  at  the  hours  of  the  railway-trains 
to  reach  the  unfrequented  station,  was  also  not  lighted. 
In  the  soft,  mellow  light  of  the  still,  hazy  atmosphere, 
small  hired  droskies  passed  slowly  along,  drawn  by 
weary  horses  at  walking  pace  and  driven  by  sleepy 
coachmen,  and  this  silent  procession  seemed  to  Demiane 
the  passing  of  a  vision.  Was  it  a  sweeter  day,  and  a 


M  A  n  K  O  F 


175 


more  delicate  light  tluit  bathed   the  bas-reliefs  of  tho 
Parthenon  at  night?      Had    Orpheus    more   touching 
prayers  with  which  to  bid  the  stones  group  tl 
in  harmony? 

The  young  man  played,  and  all  within  him  and 
without  assumed  a  divine,  ideal  purity:  he  had  quite 
forgotten  Caroline  and  the  want  of  refinement  of  In T 
dwelling  —  the  young  German  girl  existed  no  longer 
for  him,  as  he  saw  slowly  rising  above  the  earth  on 
a  level  with  his  half-closed  eyes,  the  mysterious  and 
symbolically  grouped  figures  of  the  Panathena3a. 

Why  did  Greece  thus  visit  this  obscure  and  unculti- 
vated boy,  who  was  ignorant  of  almost  every  thing 
Relating  to  her,  and  who  only  knew  of  her  through 
what  some  photographs  and  drawings  had  shown  him, 
or  what  a  few  lines  read  here  and  there  by  chance  in 
(some  half-opened  book  at  one  of  his  pupils,  had  taught 

rim  during  his  time  of  waiting?     It  was  perhaps  the 

indent  fable  of  Orpheus  which  had  awakened  in  him 
sacred  rhythm  of  the  old  dances.  He  played 
forgetful  of  the  world,  unconscious  of  the  growing 

)bscurity,  his  eyes  lost  in  the  adorable  dimness  of  tin; 

twilight,  and  he  stopped  to  listen  to  the  voice  within 

n'm,  which  was  dictating  his  melody. 

How  beautiful  that  is,  brother!"  said  Yktor,  stop- 

)ing  before  him  with  his  hands  clasped  in  ecstasy. 
He  approached,  but  had  not  dared  to  enter  for  fear  of 

listurbing  the  musician  and  he  listened  from  without 

waning  against  the  little  garden's  hedge. 
'•Is   it  beautiful?     Listen  again,"  and  Domain. 

iommenced;  but  the  fashion  of  his  song  had  changed. 


176  MARKOF. 

He  foresaw  his  future  glorj^,  and  fujl  of  pride  and 
enthusiasm,  he  ruled  the  world.  Continuing  his  dream, 
he  was  Alexander  entering  conquered  cities  on  a  chariot 
drawn  by  six  white  horses.  The  vanquished  kings 
marched  at  his  side  in  the  dust,  and  the  four-stringed 
lyres  sang  his  glory  and  his  omnipotence.  The  world 
was  his !  Then  his  inspiration  exhausted,  brought  him 
again  to  earth,  and  after  a  few  undecided  notes,  he 
began  to  play  with  incredible  fire  Veniavsky's  cele- 
brated polonaise.  All  his  wishes,  all  his  desires  con- 
centrated themselves  in  this  truly  extraordinary 
inspiration,  which  has  no  rival  of  its  kind ;  and  Victor, 
who  was  enraptured,  clapped  his  hands  at  the  first 
moment  of  rest. 

The  train  from  Nijni  arrived,  and  a  few  travellers 
traversed  the  square  in  drosky  or  on  foot,  but  De*miane 
paid  no  heed  to  them.  His  own  inspiration  might 
perhaps  have  been  disturbed  by  a  return  to  real  life, 
but  the  execution  of  a  master's  work,  overpowering  the 
commonplace  sounds,  seemed  to  him  an  affirmation  of 
his  strength  and  of  the  power  of  art. 

In  the  semi-obscurity  that  is  usual  on  such  lovely  j 
spring  nights,  two  travellers,  one  of  whom  carried  a] 
violin-box,  were  crossing  the  square  slowly,  when  the 
younger  stopped  to  listen  to  the  music  -that  was  sol 
wonderful,  heard  at  that  hour  and  in  that  place. 

"  It  is  the  Polonaise,  the  true  and  only  Polonaise^ 
said  the  younger  of  the  two  to  his  companion,  "  and  it) 
is  not  at  all  badly  played!  It  is  absurd,  it  resembles- 
nothing,  and  he  who  is  playing  it  is  not  an  ordinary) 
person !  Who  the  devil  can  the  coxcomb  be  ?  " 


M  A  i:  K  n  i- 


177 


Walking  in  the  dust,  they  uppruai hed  the  old  house 
and  perceived  Victor,  who  was  li>trning  witli  all  his 
soul,  leaning  against  the  balustrade.  The  >«unds  came 
forth  from  the  dark  window  and  nothing  could  !„•  N  ,-n 
from  outside. 

"  Who  is  playing  inside  there  ?  "  tlie  traveller  asked 
Victor,  trembling. 

"It  is  my  brother,"  replied  the  young  man  wiih 
pride  mingled  with  anxiety. 

Perhaps  one  had  no  right  to  play  the  violin  so  late, 
with  the  windows  open!  Were  they  breaking  some 
police  regulation?  Would  they  have  to  pay  a  fine? 
Heavens!  what  would  become  of  them? 

"  I). 'mi. me."  >aid  the  poor  boy,  with  a 
"brother,  stop!" 

••  Xot  at  all,  not  at  alM  let  him  continue,  on  the 
trary!''  said  the  new  comer.     "It  is  very  curious  \\haL 
he  i-  doing  there.     Who  taught  it  to  him  '.'  n 

"No  one,  sir;  he  practised  his  scales." 

"If  he  will  work,  lie  can  become  a  gn-a; 

"On  hearing  some  one  speaking,  Demianc  stopped 
playing;  he  approached  the  \vindo\v  to  call  his  1m. • 

k-  Young  man,"  said  the  traveller,  "come  here,  I  would 
like  to  speak  to  you." 

Surprised  and  also  a  little  anxious  as  Victor  had  1 
the  musician  obeyed. 

"I  have  just  come  from  giving  a  concert  at  Nijni," 
said  the  stranger,  "I  \  -ing  here  on  foot,  for  I  do 

not  live  far;  your  music  has  suiprisrd  me.     Have  you 
been  playing  long  like  this  all  ah*:. 

"For  very  nearly  four  years,"  replied  IK'miane,  feel- 
11 


178  MARK  OF. 

ing  suddenly  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  an  arbiter 
of  his  fate. 

"Would  you  like  to  enter  the  Conservatoire?" 

"  I  have  no  other  ambition." 

"  Come  to  see  me  to-morrow.     Here  is  my  card." 

The  darkness  prevented  Demiane  from  reading  il 
and  perhaps  also  concealed  the  nervous  trembling  tha 
had  taken  possession  of  him. 

"  My  name  is  Verlomine,"  said  the  stranger,  smilin 
slightly. 

At  this  illustrious  name,  which  had  reinstated  in 
struction  on  the  violin  at  the  Conservatoire,  where  i 
had  fallen  into  decay,  Demiane  wished  to  express  hi 
delight  and  gratitude,  but  the  two  travellers'  faces  wer 
already  lost  in  the  gray  evening  shadows,  and  thei 
outlines  could  hardly  be  distinguished  on  the  dust) 
back  ground  of  the  square. 

"  What  an  adventure  ! "  said  Victor,  when  he  hac 
recovered  his  speech. 

"  The  future  is  mine ! "  cried  Demiane  brandishin 
his  bow. 


MAKKOK. 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

ADMITTED    TO    THE    CONSERVATOIRE. 


next  day  the  young  musician  returned  from  his 
visit  both  down-hearted  and  glad.  He  hud  been 
idniitted  by  favor  to  follow  the  classes  at  the  Con>«  r- 
vatoire  as  a  listener,  so  as  to  impress  upon  himself  the 
importance  of  method,  and  the  celebrated  Professor 
iad  declared  to  him  that  he  knew  nothing  and  that 
ivery  thing  was  to  be  begun  over  again  from  the  A  11 
u  of  music. 

"  Only  think,  Victor,  to  begin  over  everything  again 
rom  the  beginning.  He  said  it  was  far  worse  than  if 

had  learned  nothing.  But  I  do  not  believe  it,  par 
xemple!  He  said  so  to  prevent  me  from  thinking 
lyself  too  learned,  but  if  at  my  age  I  knew  nothing,  it 
rould  not  be  worth  while  for  me  to  begin  !  " 

A  certain  contentment  shone  through  Ddmiane's  dis- 
ppointment;  he  had  divined  under  the  nia>ter'sdiscour- 
ging  words  the  certainty  of  his  growing  talent.     The 
let  alone  of  having  been  admitted  to  listen  to  the 
Lires  during  the  two  months  that  were  to  pass  before 
le  classes  were  over,  was  of  itself  an  enconr.i. 
ad  the  young  man  understood  it.     Mun>imr  Kmisaof 

id  the  same  thing  to  him  when  he  told  him  of 
iventure;  and  from  his  protector's  satisfaction,  I  >e  mi- 
ne felt  confirmed  in  the  belief  that  they  expected  a 
reat  deal  from  him,  if  he  were  willing  to  work. 


180  MARK  OF. 

Our  friend  was  not  frightened  about  the  work.  His 
dreamy  and  unmanageable  nature  quickly  submitted  to 
the  necessity  of  a  continual  struggle.  His  father  would 
have  been  much  irritated  to  have  seen  how  the  youth 
who  was  so  rebellious  to  the  yoke  of  the  paternal  house 
had  bent  himself  to  the  discipline  he  had  imposed  upon 
himself;  and  would  not  have  failed  to  have  cried  out 
about  the  inconstancy  of  character  in  general,  and 
about  his  son's  perversity  in  particular,  who  now  con- 
sented to  submit  to  all  remonstrances,  when  at  home, 
would  never  bear  any  whatever. 

It  was  in  truth  with  great  philosophy  that  Ddmiane 
bore  all  scoffings  from  the  pupils  at  the  Conservatoire, 
who  looked  upon  him  as  a  curious  animal,  and  also  the 
Professor's  caustic  remarks,  who  justly  or  unjustly  i 
passed  for  possessing  the  sharpest  sarcasm  in  all  Mos- 
cow. He  bore  not  only  with  a  stoical  resignation,  bud 
with  a  sort  of  ascetic  enthusiasm,  the  humiliations  of 
all  kinds  which  his  position  of  an  un-classed  pupil  drew, 
down  upon  him,  and  even  after  a  few  days  he  found  the 
life  charming,  doubtless  more  on  account  of  what  it 
promised  him,  than  what  it  then  gave  him. 

The  time  for  the  examinations  arrived,  and  De'mianej 
was  received  with  all  sorts  of  admonitions  and  ironical 
remarks  from  his  Professor ;  but  he  was  received,  and 
that  idea  gave  him  wings.  He  regaled  Victor  once  morff 
with  a  serenade  of  his  own  composition,  but  eitheE 
from  the  influence  of  his  daily  lessons,  or  from  a  parti 
cular  state  of  his  mind,  he  did  not  reach  the  ethereal- 
heights  he  had  touched  on  the  day  that  decided  his  fate. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  is  the  matter  with  me,"  said 


MARK  OF.  181 

he  to  his   brother,    "what  I   am   playing  is  good   for 
othing!" 

"Well,  Ddmiane,  keep  to  your  lessons,  that  is  bett.-r 
r  you  meanwhile." 

This  mentor's  advice   was    faithfully   followed,   and 
iring   the  summer  months  the   little   building    nrar 
e  railway  resounded  only  to  the  acrobatic  e.xn 
tecuted  by  Ddmiane  on  all  the  strings  of  his  instru- 
ent. 

"Ah!"  sighed  he  from  time  to  time,  "if  I  only  had 
passably  good  violin  !  " 

Victor  sighed  also,  more  profoundly,  perhaps;    but 
iyety  soon   returned  to  their  home,  and   they  were 
metimes  so  frolicsome,  that  even  Petit-Cms,  who  had 
3come  with  the  passing  months  almost  a  serious  <  at. 
ould   not  always  condescend    to   share   their   romp-, 
id  ing  them  beneath  its  feline  dignity. 
Andrd   had   taken   a   fancy  to    his    new    nei^hl. 
horn  at  first  he  had  desired  to  know  a   li(tlc   from 
iriosity,  a  little  out  of  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  and 
little  also  to  enjoy  his  superiority  over  them.     For  all 
le  may  have  overcome  many  social  errors  and  pro- 
ssed  the  most  stoical  philosophy,  one  is  al\\. 
ad  to  be  able  to  make  some  one  say:    "There  i>  a 
ever  man  !  "•  -were  the  same  person  only  om-'> 
aker,  one's  baker,  or  the  woman  who  sells  on. 

the  shop  on  the  corner.     Andre   had   li\ed    f«»r  so 
ng  a  time  with  persons  who  were  entirely  dill.  : 
om  him  in  their  manners,  their  iastes.  and  their  intel- 
ctual  level,  that  a  little  pride   could  be  well 

jrmitted  to  him. 


182  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

After  a  few  days  he  found  pleasure  in  De'miane's 
society,  and   a   sort   of    tenderness  was  awakened  in  j 
him  in  regard   to   Victor;    he   felt  pity  for   him   on 
account   of    his   infirmity,   and    an   affection   for   him  i 
because  of  his  good-natured  disposition.     This  tender- 
ness had  very  soon  become  esteem ;  the  profound  self- 
denial  of  the  poor  being,  whose  misfortune  might  have 
rendered   him   morose   and   whimsical,  the   simplicity 
with  which  he  cut  himself  off,  so  to  speak,  from  the 
world  of  living  people,  claiming  at  the  most,  to  be  fit 
only  to  play  a  supernumerary's  part,  touched  him  to  the 
depths  of  his  soul.     Andre  knew  that  really  good  men 
are  rare,  and  deserve  that  statues  should  be  erected  to ' 
them  on  the   public  squares,  which  would  never   be 
crowded,  he  added.    Instead  of  amusing  himself  outside,  i 
as   he  formerly  did,  after  having   vainly   endeavored: 
once    or   twice   to   entice   our   friends   to   a   caf£,   by1 
promising  to  bear  the  expense,  he  fell  into  the  habit; 
of  sharing  their  tea,  or  of  making  them  share  his  own, 
evenings.      The   small    "  upper-room,"   with   its   three 
guests,   heard   many   strange   propositions   laid    down 
during  the  long  winter  of  probation  which  Ddmianej 
passed   before   entering   the    Conservatoire.      It   was, 
perhaps,  the  high  range  of  these   conversations   that] 
prematurely  ripened   Petit-Gris'   character,  who   grcAVi 
wearied  of  hearing  them  moralize,  in  regard  to  her  own 
case,  and  also  in  regard  to  that  of  many  bipeds  ;  never-! 
theless,  one   was  almost  sure  of  finding  toward  nine 
o'clock    in   the   evening,   the    three   friends   gathered; 
round  the  table,  with  the  samovar  at  one  end  and  the 
cat  at  the  other,  as  a  mate  to  it. 


MARK  OF.  183 

The    summer  had  at    last    come,  torrid  and    d 
laking  the  stray  dogs,  which  are  almost  as  numerous 
t    Moscow   as  at   Constantinople,   loll    their    tun. 
iving    happy    people    frightful    nightmares,   in    which 
ydrophobia  played   the   principal   part.      The  paint  mi 
be  small  wooden  house  was  peeling  nff  in  the  sun. 

"It  will  take  fire  one  of  these  fine  mornin. 
Lndrd,  who  went  out  from  time  to  time  to  assure  him- 
elf  that  no   unusual  smoke  yet  rose   from  the  i 
but  one  warms  one's  self  for  nothing,  and  the  proprie- 
fess  is  pleased." 

The    three   friends   found   that   fact    charming,  and 
'etit-Gris  found  it  more  so.     Stretched  out  all  day  in 
be  place  which  was  the  most  exposed  to  the  sun's  rays, 
;  lost  its  appetite.     Every  night,  Andre  found  it  n: 
is  window,  overcome  by  the  light  and  heat. 

"It  smells  as  though  it  were  burned  ;  it  is  more  than 
alf  baked,"  said  the  musical-instrument  maker,  taking 
;  up  by  the  skin  of  its  neck,  to  turn  it  round  and  put  it 
n  its  paws.  "It  must  have  been  a  cat  which  u 
be  sun,  but  who  taught  the  cat  to  mew,  together  with 
be  art  of  catching  mice?  Religious  beliefs  may  be 
erfected  by  a  change,  but  no  one  has  ever  found 
ny thing  superior  to  the  cat  in  the  way  of  catching 
lice." 

Victor  had  grown  accustomed  to  his  whin, 
larks,  and  smiled  honestly,  because  Dcmiane 
ithout  understanding  them   very   well.      The    1, 
ad  caught  a  little   of  his  friend's  turn   of   mind,  and 

ictor  almost  always  understood  him,  of  which  fact  he 
as  extremely  proud;  besides,  he  thought  hi.>  brother 


184  MARK  OF. 

possessed  more  cleverness  than  any  one,  no  matter  who, 
011  the  face  of  the  earth,  it  being  remembered  that  he 
knew  but  an  infinitely  small  number  of  persons  on  the 
globe. 

One  particular  evening  when  Andr£,  returning  home 
with  Victor,  announced,  "that  Petit-Gris  would  be 
nice  to  make  coffee  of  the  next  day,  because  she  was 
roasted,"  Demiane,  who  returned  before  them,  showed 
them  from  the  window  a  square  envelope.  They  hast- 
ened their  steps  and  approached  the  garden,  so  as  to 
hear  the  news  quicker. 

"Victor,"  said  the  young  musician,  "imagine!  our 
sister  is  going  to  be  married,  and  father  has  asked  us  to 
go  to  the  wedding  !  " 

"  And  I ?     They  have  not  invited  me? "  said  Andre 
he  stopped  suddenly  and  held  out  his  arm  to  sustain 
Victor,  who   had  very   nearly  fallen   to   the   ground.' 
"What  is  this?   a  weakness?   a  swoon?  as  the  French 
marquises  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  said;  or  ''vapors,^ 
as  the  great  Catherine  used  to  say,  who  knew  a  great' 
deal  about  them." 

As  he  was  speaking,  he  seized  Victor  by  the  collar^ 
of  his  coat  with  extraordinary  force,  and  carried  rather 
than  led  him  into  the  room,  at  the  risk  of  strangling 
him  with  his  cravat. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Victor  in  a  sweet  voice,  when  he 
had  regained  his  breath  and  was  seated.  "It  is  joy, 
you  see." 

"  Joy  at  seeing  your  sister  married,  you  great  simple- 
ton?" 

"  No,  not  that,  —  that  is  indifferent  to  me ;  I  mean  it' 
gives  me  pleasure,  but  —  " 


MARK  OF.  185 

"Yes,  I  understand  that;  it  gives  you  pleasure,  but 
it  is  indifferent  to  you;  the  greater  part  ui'  \vlmt  gives 
us  pleasure  enters  into  that  category.  \Vhat  joy, 
then?" 

"To   see  my  father   again,"   murmured  the  young 
man;    "and  he   invites  us,  therefore  he  is  no  In: 
angry.     OhIDemiane!     Are  you  not  glad  ?" 

His  hands  feverishly  clasped  his  brother's,  and  his 
eyes,  which  were  swimming  in  tears  of  joy,  sought  his 
ook. 

11  Yes,  I  am  glad,"  replied  Demiane,  with  a  sincere 
.mile.  "I  am  very  glad;  first,  because  our  father  has 
nvited  us,  and  because,  therefore,  he  is  no  longer 
mgry;  and  then,  because  he  is  going  to  have  a  son'-in- 
aw  who  will  work  for  him,  and  because  he  can  take 
ome  rest." 

"That  is  so,  my  friends,"  said  Andre*,  who  looked  at 
hem  with  his  arms  crossed,  and  with  a  certain  moisture 
n  his  china-blue  eyes,  to  which  he  would  not  have  con- 
essed  for  an  empire ;  "it  is  very  nice  ;  but  do  you  know 
vhat  you  are  going  to  gain  by  this  ?  " 

" A  brother-in-law ?"  hazarded  Ddmiane  smiling;  he 
vas  truly  touched,  more  from  Victor's  joy,  than  oi: 
wn  account. 

4  You  will  gain  the  noblest  independence  by  it,  my 
riends !      From  the  day  that  witnesses  the  fortu 
narriage  of  your  sister,  the  paternal  allowance  of  ten 
oubles  a  month  will  pass  to  the  place  of  things  that 
-ere  and  that  cannot  be  again,  because  they  will  1. 
iased  to  exist,  like  old  moons  and  candles  thai 
urned  down  to  their  very  ends." 


186  MAKKOF. 

"Why?"  asked  Demiane,  who  was  a  little  aston- 
ished at  these  prophetic  words. 

"  Simplicity  of  beautiful  souls !  Would  you  send 
ten  roubles  a  month  to  your  brother-in-law  ?  " 

44 1  do  not  know ;  but  it  is  not  he  who  sends  them,  it 
is  my  father." 

"  And  from  the  day  on  which  he  takes  possession  of 
the  cure,  who  will  receive  its  revenues  ?  " 

"He,  naturally,"  replied  Demiane  with  less  assur- 
ance, for  he  began  to  understand. 

44  Well,  my  friends,  eat  a  great  deal  of  paternal  food 
at  the  splendid  wedding ;  try  to  store  up  provisions  for 
yourselves  for  the  winter,  under  the  form  of  fat  and 
succulent  flesh,  for  you  will  be  reduced  next  year  to 
your  own  resources,  or  I  am  a  fool." 

44  That  cannot  be  ! "  said  Victor,  recovering  his  speech. 
44  Our  father  will  not  abandon  us  !  " 

44  You  certainly  abandoned  him,  my  good  friends  !  " 

The  two  brothers  lowered  their  heads  at  these  words 
that  were  so  cruel  in  their  curtness. 

44  And  remember  well,  my  dear  children,  that  I  do 
not  say  this  to  give  you  pain !  You  have  the  right 
to  quarrel  with  me,  and  even  to  call  me  names.  I 
would  not  take  it  in  bad  part,  under  the  circumstances. 
I  tell  you  so,  because  it  is  in  this  way  that  priests  marry 
their  daughters,  when  they  have  no  sons  or  when  their 
sons  do  not  wish  to  take  their  places.  If  the  young 
lady  had  not  been  so  impatient  to  submit  to  the  yoke 
of  marriage,  you  might  have  found  yourselves  well  off 
when  the  painful  news  reached  you.  She  was  dying  to 
give  herself  a  master;  I  regret  it  more  for  her  sake 


M  A  RK  O  F.  187 


than   for  yours,  but  nothing  can  be  done.      Von 
probably    think    that    your   father    has    done    \M 
well,  not  at  all.     First  he  is  acting  in  his  full  i  -i^lr  . 
;hen,  one  cannot  resist  a  son-in-law  who  is  going  to  five 
one  from  one's  daughter.     I  feel  that  if  I,  Andre-  Lad  of, 
lad  a  daughter,  and  that  a  son-in-law  presented  himself 

—  Come,  my  children,  do  not  put  on  such  a  soriow- 
?ul  look;  really  there  is  no  cause  for  it  !  " 

"What  shall  we  do?"  asked  Victor,  while  Ddmiane, 
with  his  eyebrows  contracted,  was  undergoing  one  of 
iliose  inward  rebellions,  which  used  to  give  him  I  lie 
reputation  of  having  a  trying  character. 

"Accept  your  new  situation  with  a  good  grace;  find 
10  fault  which  among  other  evils,  would  possess  that  of 
>eing  perfectly  useless;  even  forestall,  if  the  effort  dors 
not  cost  you  too  much,  the  painful  announcement  from 
your  father,  which  might  bring  between  you  a  disagree- 
ible  feeling;  tell  him  that  you  willingly  renounce  the 
sacrifice  he  has  imposed  upon  himself  for  you,  and  that 
rou  will  henceforth  support  yourselves." 

"You  are  right!"  said  Ddmiane,  relaxing  his  eye- 
>rows,  which  resumed  their  usual  appearance. 

"But,"  objected  Victor,  "should  Andre  be  mi-ta- 
ken ?  " 

"If  I  am  mistaken,  so  much  the  better!  Your 
Mier  will  be  glad  to  see  that  you  can,  in  truth.  snj»- 
)ort  yourselves." 

"But  we  just  get  on  with  what  he  gives  us,"  timidly 
nurmured  the  young  invalid,  who,  in  his  portion  of 
jashier,  knew  better  the  resources  of  the  household. 

"  You  will  deprive  yourselves  a  little  more  !     You  are 


188  MARK  OF. 

too  happy,  my  friends,  you  do  not  know  what  poverty- 
is,  you  are  nabobs  in  comparison  to  what  I  was  once. 
Is  it  not  shameful  to  accept  your  father's  poor  ten 
roubles,  when  you  have  enough  to  eat  every  day  and 
several  times  a  day  ?  Do  you  know  that  in  those  ten 
roubles,  there  enters  more  privations  in  a  month  for 
him,  than  you  undergo  during  a  whole  year?  But  you 
love  your  comforts,  let  us  suppose  that  I  have  said 
nothing.  I  have  done  wrong  to  meddle  with  what  does 
not  concern  me." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  to  go  to  his  room,  a  little  hurt 
and  vexed  at  having  to  lessen  the  good  opinion  with 
which  his  friends  had  inspired  him,  when  Ddmiane 
stopped  him  and  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  You  are  right,  Andre*,"  said  he  to  him;  "if  we  have 
continued  accepting  this  money,  it  is  because  we  have 
not  realized  how  hard  our  father  earns  it.  We  will 
give  it  up  most  willingly,  and  from  to-day,  will  we  not, 
Victor?" 

"  Yes,  brother,"  bravely  replied  the  latter,  electrified 
by  the  younger's  magnanimity. 

"  It  is  fortunate,"  concluded  Andre*,  that  to-day  is  the 
fifth,  and  that  you  drew  your  ten  roubles  on  the  first ! ' 

To  send  invitations  to  people  doubtless  is  all  very 
well,  and  proves  an  excellent  nature,  but  vehicles  cost 
something;  generally  they  cost  very  dear.  Our  friends 
held  a  grand  council  in  regard  to  the  means  by  which 
they  should  go  to  Gradovka  and  return  again,  without 
selling  their  clothes,  which  was  equally  impracticable. 
They  had  almost  the  necessary  sum  to  go  there ;  but 
with  what  should  they  return  ? 


M  ARKOF. 

"  Our  father  has  probably  thought  of  it,"  said  Victor, 
who  was  an  optimist  by  nature. 

"And  suppose  he  has  not  thought  of  it?  You  well 
know  that  we  have  not  yet  been  able  to  return  Mon- 
sieur Roussof  the  money  he  lent  us  with  which  to  mint* 
here !  We  cannot  think  of  borrowing  any  more  from 
him." 

The  case  was  a  serious  one,  and  the  two  brothers 
would  have  been  in  a  cruel  embarrassment  but  for 
Andrews  intervention,  from  whom  they  had  no  secrets, 
and  whom  they  took  as  confidant  after  his  iir>t  question. 

"Is  it  money  that  you  need?"  said  he,  winking  his 
light-colored  eyes  maliciously.  "I  have  some.  IIu\v 
much  do  you  want?  Speak,  and  we  will  bring  out 
from  here  the  sum  required." 

He  struck  the  side  pocket  of  his  jacket  with  so  much 
emphasis  that  his  friends  began  to  laugh,  then  D(hniane 
said  with  an  incredulous  air : 

"  You  have  money  ?  " 

"  Certainly !     I  have  not  put  the  Pactolus  in  bottles, 
but  I  have  a  few  small  pears  in  my  garret  in  case  of 
thirst!     Moreover,   I   am   a  land-owner!     I   ha\> 
income!     Did  you  not  know  it? " 

"Who  would  have  said  so  of  you?"  said  Ddm 
very  much  surprised,  while  Victor,  with   staring  eyes, 
looked  at  their  friend  with  new  veneration   and  pro- 
found amazement. 

"That  is  too  true,  my  dear  children,  for  I  con- 
you  both  as  young  children,   thanks  to  your   cam  lid 
ignorance  of  life,  I  possess  on  the  Don,  very  near  its 
mouth,  an  immense,  phenomenal  property,  which  my 


190  MARK  OF. 

uncle,  a  Cossack,  left  to  me, — for  I  have  the  blood  of 
Zaporogus  in  my  veins;  it  does  not  appear  in  them 
does  it?" 

"No,  not  at  all,"  Victor  replied  innocently,  as  he 
thought  of  the  brown  hair  and  black  eyes  which  tradi- 
tion gives  to  the  Cossacks  of  the  Don. 

"  It  does  not  prevent  my  having  it  all  the  same ;  but 
probably  it  is  all  inside,  in  the  middle  of  my  veins ;  it 
must  have  been  that  rascally  blood  that  played  me  the 
trick  of  which  you  know,  when  I  was  a  student.  We 
were  saying  then,  that  I  possess  an  immense  domain, 
verstes  in  extent,  my  friends,  square  verstes  of  land !  The 
steppe  in  all  its  beauty !  " 

"Then  you  are  rich?"  said  Demiane,  a  little  hurt  at 
hearing  so  late  that  Andre*  was  a  land-owner. 

"  Not  at  all !  I  have  the  land,  but  nothing  grows  on 
it !  That  is  to  say  grass  grows  there  and  the  buffalo, 
the  one  eats  the  other." 

"  But  buffaloes  are  property,  and  they  have  a  com- 
mercial value." 

"  Yes,  my  good  friends ;  but  my  excellent  uncle  who 
knew  I  had  a  hot  head, —  this  rascally  blood,  you 
know! — also  left  me  an  agent  to  protect  his  property 
from  my  carelessness,  when  he  should  be  no  more.  I 
do  not  know  whether  my  agent  protects  my  property 
from  anything  except  myself,  but  he  lives  in  my  house, 
drinks  my  cow's  milk  and  sends  me  every  year  under 
all  circumstances  —  " 

He  stopped  to  contemplate  the  faces  of  his  friends 
who  were  listening  to  him  with  mouths  wide  open,  then 
he  laughed  a  moment  and  continued : 


M  A  K  K  OF. 

*  Two  hundred  and  fiftv  silver  roubles  on   an  . 
ige." 

"But  he  is  a  thief!  "  cried   Demiane,   while  Vi. 
ace  expressed  not  a  little  pity. 

"Ah!  no,  he  is  an  honest  man,  after   his   ia>hion  ;   1 

>elieve  he  has  a  child,  a  girl  or  a  boy,  I  don't  know 

.vhich,  and  he  is  very  quietly  accumulating  a  little  pile 

)f  money  according  to  that  good  man's  ideas  which  do 

10  harm  to  any  one!     Follow  my  reasoning  or  rather 

lis:  my  uncle  is  dead;  it  was  he  who  was  the  owner, 

[  am  only  a  picked  up  heir,   an   intruder;  my   uncle 

night  just  as  well  have  left  his  property  to  t 

nan  as  to  myself;  and  he  committed  a  grave  error  in 

referring  me;  therefore,  there  is  neither  crime,  nor 

left  in  repairing  the  injustice  of  a  whimsical  old  man, 

ho  remembered  me  inopportunely.     And  the  moral  of 

1  this  is,  that  there  are  fifty  roubles  which  you  will 

iturn  to  me  when  you  can." 

"It  is  a  great  sum,"  said  Demiane  with  hesitation; 
ut  Ladof  had  shut  his  pocket-book  so  decidedly  that 
le  young  musician  took  the  bank  bill  and  made  no 
.her  objection.     After  a  moment,  he  added  : 
"Tell  me,  Andre*,  if  my  question  is   not   improper, 
3w  does  it  happen  that  you  live  here  so  poorly,  when 
m  could  be  better  lodged,  better  fed  —  " 
"Then,  my  dear  fellow,  I  should  have  no  money  at 
y  disposition  to  give  myself  a  little  fancy,  like  to-< 
nd   then,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  living  I    I 

id  the  greatest  trouble  to  make  both  ends  meet,  wln-n 
lis  fortune  came  to  me  unexpectedly;  I  remained 
3re,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  I  did,  since  I  met  you." 


192  MARKOF. 

The  next  Tuesday  the  two  brothers  took  the  dili- 
gence ;  their  luggage  filled  but  little  space,  but  their 
delight  was  as  great  as  a  mountain.  When  the  vehicle 
passed  the  last  limits  of  Moscow,  when  the  road  entered 
the  forest,  that  eternal  forest  which  one  finds  every 
where  in  Russia,  in  the  neighborhood  of  great  and  small 
cities,  De*miane  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  dream,  and  he 
began  to  laugh. 

"  Ah !  "  said  he,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  forgot  to  speak  to 
Caroline  about  our  journey." 

That  was  the  only  regret  he  bestowed  on  his  amiable 
German  teacher. 


MARK  OP.  193 


CHAPTER   XX. 
PARACHA'S   WEDDING. 

3ARACHA  had  taken  nearly  ten  years  to  make  her 
trousseau,  but  such  a  trousseau!  Not  a  stitch  of 
that  had  not  been  accompanied  with  a  bitter  thought, 
at  least  with  impatience  in  regard  to  some  im-mlicr 
her  family.  Not  a  mesh  of  her  stockings  which 
ight  not  have  recalled  to  her  her  grievances  against 
nnanity  in  general  and  celibacy  in  particular.  For- 
inately  thoughts  do  not  appear  upon  clothes,  and  tin- 
n  betrothed  girl  was  able  to  allow  everything  she, 
id  to  be  admired  by  the  young  girls  who  went  to  the 
nise  the  day  before  the  wedding  for  that  purpose.  1 
joicings  which  are  usual  at  such  a  time  among  the 
jople  are  not  permitted  to  the  clergy;  tin-  wedding 

^race  by  it,  and  gains  nothing  in  character. 
mug  girls  sat  opposite  one  another  in  chairs  rai 
ong  the  walls,  and  looked  at  each  other  "full  in  tin- 
res,"  according  to  the  popular  expression,  but  will. 
ying  a   word;  it  was   in  this  august   company  that 
e  two  young  men,  who  were  much  fatigued,  appeared 
rter  their  journey. 

Tke  customary  embraces  were  exchanged  in  tin-  \ 
ice  of  twenty  strange  persons,  who  were  more  or 
) friendly  to  these  vagabond  sons,  who  had   d 
e  paternal  roof  no  one  knew  why!  onest 

;ople  despised  music  so  much  that  it  had  :  -nee 

12 


194  MARKOF. 

for  them,  and  in  their  opinion  the  profession  of  music 
did  not  make  one  a  musician  any  more  than  the  fact  of 
swinging  in  a  swing  gives  one  a  high  social  position ! 
Poor  Victor's  heart  was  very  full,  and  he  would  have 
liked  to  clasp  his  mother  in  his  arms,  and  to  pet  her  as 
in  his  childhood  days,  and  to  kiss  with  ardor  the  pater- 
nal hand  which  re-opened  the  door  that  had  been 
closed  to  them  so  long.  He  was  obliged  to  give  up 
all  these  simple  joys,  and  sit  down  to  a  repast  which 
they  offered  them  with  great  ceremony.  Paracha 
waited  upon  them  with  a  modest  demeanor,  that  was  asj 
natural  a  grace  in  her  as  everything  else,  but  which] 
seemed  very  remarkable  to  the  two  brothers.  Her  face] 
was  as  shining  as  a  pot  of  pomade,  the  effect  of  the 
soap  that  had  been  used  in  too  frequent  lotions,  and< 
from  repeated  rubbings.  She  wore  a  dress  of  a  yellow- 
ish-gray color,  which  was  the  fashion  fifteen  years  ago, 
and  which  had  miserably  stranded  on  all  the  unex- 
plored banks  of  small  provincial  towns. 

In  spite  of  this  too  brilliant  exterior,  the  young  girls, 
we  do  not  dare  to  say  her  friends,  or  her  companions,; 
or  even  her  neighbors,  for  the  daughters  of  priests  have;; 
neither  friends,  companions,  nor  neighbors, — they  are; 
isolated  beings,  whom  marriage  alone  permits  to  ap- 
proach the  human  species,  —  the  young  girls  looked  at 
her  with  envy :  in  this  lottery  of  life,  had  she  not  drawn 
a  husband?  A  husband,  the  most  difficult  object  under 
Heaven  to  procure  for  one's  self. 

This  husband  was  not  handsome,  however,  and  should 
not  have  excited  jealousy ;  his  only  merit  was  in  being 
excessively  tall,  which  was  brought  about  by  capricious 


MARKOF.  195 

nature,  at  the  expense  of  his  rotundity,  and  \vhit-h 
made  him  greatly  resemble  a  stalk  of  wild  asparagus. 

But  he  was  a  fine  looking  man,  because  he  could  not 
pass  under  the  door  without  stooping,  and  the  general 
opinion  was  one  of  approval. 

"  What  do  you  say  of  our  brother-in-law  ? "  Victor 
asked  D£miane,  when  every  one  having  gone  to  bed 
they  escaped  into  the  garden  to  talk  with  freedom. 

"Nothing  at  all;  he  is  the  most  insignificant  fellow 
I  have  ever  seen.  Just  the  one  whom  Paracha  needs 
to  rule  as  she  pleases." 

"  Our  father  has  grown  old,"  continued  Victor,  witli 
a  sigh.  "  It  is  our  fault." 

"  Yes,  brother.  But  it  is  also  our  sister's  fault.  I 
have  never  before  perceived  how  unamiable  she  is." 

"  If  we  had  remained  —  "  Victor  began. 

"  We  should  have  been  unhappy,  and  our  father 
would  have  been  none  the  less  so.  Our  place  is  else- 
where, brother.  .  Excepting  our  father  and  mother,  all 
these  people  here  seem  to  me  to  have  come  from  a 


menagerie ! " 


What  must  he  have  thought  the  next  day,  when  tin- 
menagerie  formed  the  nuptial  cortege  and  went  to  the 
church  under"  a  beautiful  July  sun  I 

The  men  were  superb ;  handsome  priests  and  deacons 
are  sought  after  by  good  parishes.  Bi>id«->.  tin-  C«.>IUIIM« 
of  the  Russian  clergy,  which  permits  the  u><-  "t  i ;«  h  ;md 
sombre  colors,  and  whose  floating  form  lends  so  mm-h 
dignity  to  the  carriage,  is  generally  gracefully  worn. 
The  new  robes,  made  of  costly  silk  or  woolen  matt-rial, 
with  their  large  sombre  violet,  dark  green,  and  reddish 
brown  sleeves,  gave  a  particular  appearance  of  nobility 


196  MARKOF. 

and  dignity.  But  their  wives  !  Crinoline  had  not  yet 
ended  its  reign,  and  the  wide  striped  silk  skirts,  spread 
themselves  pompously  over  the  balloons,  displaying  to 
the  bright  daylight  the  enormous  size  of  their  plaids, 
and  the  crudity  of  their  shades.  They  manufacture  in 
Russia  materials  of  rich  heavy  silks  that  are  particu- 
larly intended  for  the  wives  and  daughters  of  priests, 
and  which  never  find  any  purchasers  outside  of  that 
class ;  Paracha's  wedding  offered  a  remarkable  assort- 
ment of  them. 

The  bride  herself  wore  a  dress  with  basques  made  of 
superb  brocaded  damask,  crimson  on  emerald  green, 
and  every  one  admired  the  richness  of  her  attire.  Over 
this  she  let  float  the  classical  veil  of  tulle,  which  was 
surmounted  by  a  crown  of  orange  blossoms.  A  bouquet 
of  the  latter  at  her  waist  completed  her  toilette,  which 
all  the  ladies  agreed  was  perfect. 

Father  Kouzma  was  much  moved  when  he  blessed 
his  daughter.  During  the  brief  remarks  which  he  made 
to  the  couple  before  proceeding  with  the  ceremony,  his 
eyes  turned  more  than  once  to  his  wife,  who  was  weep- 
ing profusely.  Why  did  she  weep  ?  Her  daughter  was 
not  going  to  leave  her,  and  moreover,  any  other  than 
herself  would  have  considered  her  departure  a  blessing. 
Perhaps  she  wept  because  it  is  the  custom;  perhaps 
also,  because  she  recalled  the  emotions  which  she 
herself  had  formerly  experienced  under  the  nuptial 
crown,  and  the  misfortunes,  the  sorrows,  the  discour- 
agements of  the  years  that  had  since  followed.  Father 
Kouzma's  look  also  rested  on  his  sons,  who  were  re- 
spectfully listening  to  him,  and  the  sight  of  them 
seemed  to  awaken  a  certain  bitterness  within  him. 


MARKOF.  197 


198  MARKOF. 

the  strangest  gambols ;  but  no  one  seemed  to  consider 
such  gymnastic  feats  as  anything  unusual,  and  every- 
thing ended  according  to  the  rite. 

The  following  days  were  passed  in  festivities ;  then 
little  by  little,  the  house  was  emptied,  the  newly  mar- 
ried pair  went  to  make  a  visit  to  the  young  man's 
father,  and  the  cure  found  itself  as  it  had  been  in  the 
past,  but  without  Paracha,  which  did  not  seem  to 
trouble  any  of  its  inhabitants  very  much. 

The  paternal  mansion  did  not  possess  all  the  charm 
for  our  friends  that  they  anticipated,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  confess  to  themselves  that  they  had  greatly 
magnified  it  in  their  imagination.  There  is  none  among 
us  to  whom  it  has  not  happened  to  dream  for  a  long 
while  of  some  place  formerly  caught  sight  of,  some 
house  visited  in  other  times,  some  persons  whom  one 
would  have  liked  to  have  known  better,  and  all  at  once, 
through  the  chance  of  circumstances,  to  find  oneself 
borne  toward  that  which  one  desired  to  see  again. 
How  many  can  say  that  this  return  has  not  proved 
more  or  less  of  a  disenchantment  ?  It  is  because  the 
mirage  of  imagination  is  so  powerful,  that  from  a  want 
of  a  point  of  comparison  in  the  present,  it  makes  the 
place  seem  more  picturesque,  the  house  larger,  the 
people  handsomer  or  more  intelligent  than  they  in 
truth  are,  and  the  reality  appears  very  dim  beside  our 
dreams. 

Demiane  and  Victor  perceived,  for  the  first  time, 
what  their  former  absence  had  previously  prevented, 
the  scarcity  of  the  furniture,  the  disorder  of  the  house, 
the  servant-maids'  effrontery,  their  mother's  utter  in- 
difference, the  severity  of  their  father,  who  was  sullen 


M  A  II  K  O  F  . 

ways  and  sometimes  unreasonable,  and  all  these  hcre- 
tofore  unobserved  facts  inspired  the  desire  to  ameliorate 
as  much  as  possible  the  lives  of  these  honest  pers«'ii<. 
which  were  full  of  wearing  cares,  due  in  great  part  to 
their  poverty. 

"Andrd  was  quite  right,"  said  Victor  one  day  to  his 
brother,  "the  money  our  father  sends  us  costs  him  vcrv 
dear." 

"  Shall  we  go  and  speak  to  him  about  it  at  once?" 
asked  Demiane,  who  was  glad  to  see  this  idea  fully 
accepted  by  his  brother,  who  till  then  had  only  half 
adopted  it. 

They  revealed  their  plan  of  reform  to  Father  Kou/ma, 
and  the  latter  did  not  seem  much  surprised,  which  was 

disappointment  to  our  friends.      When  people  are 

•ound  together  by  a  noble  thought,  it  is  very  hard  to 

find  themselves  received  coldly;  a  little  sympathy  would 

so  pleasant.  But  Father  Kouzma  did  not  appreciate 
the  sacrifices  his  children  were  making.  Owing  to  the 
'alse  idea  of  the  real  value  of  money  —  which  p< 
iave  who  supply  almost  all  of  their  wants  out  of  their 
and  and  who  only  possess  ready  money  as  a  surplus  to 
;heir  revenue  —  the  priest  imagined  that  with  forty 
roubles  a  month  to  spend  his  sons  must  roll  in  g»»M. 
le  praised  them,  but  without  enthusiasm,  and  the  two 
>rothers  left  him  rather  down-hearted. 

"I  think,"  said  Victor,  "that  we  have  made  a  useless 
sacrifice;  they  will  not  be  grateful  to  us  for  it." 

"I  think  as  you  do,  that  no  one  will  be  grateful  to 
i  .  Demiane  replied;  "but  look  around  us,  our 
mother's  dresses  are  old,  the  linen  is  wearing  out — I 
assure  you  the  sacrifice  is  not  a  useless  one." 


200  M  A  E  K  O  F  . 

Victor  thought  of  his  sister's  fine  gown ;  but  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  about  affairs  in  that  direction,  and  in 
his  character  of  optimist,  he  soon  decided  about  every- 
thing else. 

After  two  weeks  of  villegiatura,  our  friends  felt  that 
it  was  time  to  return  to  Moscow.  One  sometimes  has 
such  intuitions:  you  are  at  a  friend's  or  relative's 
house,  everything  seems  to  be  passing  in  the  most 
pleasant  manner ;  of  a  sudden  a  current  of  air  which  is 
colder  than  usual  freezes  you  morally.  The  first  day, 
you  say  to  yourself :  it  is  some  door  which  they  must 
have  left  open ;  but  the  door  does  not  close  again,  and 
then  you  feel  the  immediate  necessity  of  returning  to 
your  own  fireside. 

To  Father  Kouzma's  sons,  the  door  was  a  veritable 
porte-cochere,  and  the  current  of  air  was  a  hurricane. 
They  asked  for  their  parents'  blessings,  which  were 
given  them,  and  for  permission  to  depart,  which  was 
also  not  refused.  The  priest  felt  himself  ill  at  ease  in 
his  sons'  presence;  they  had  become  too  cityfied  for 
him,  too  much  above  him ;  De'miane  especially  had 
brought  away  from  his  visits  to  the  Conservatoire  a 
new  elegance,  which  placed  him  on  a  social  scale  much 
nearer  to  the  Roussofs  than  to  his  own  family.  The 
daily  intimacy  which  put  the  young  men  on  an  equal 
footing  with  the  lords  of  the  village,  made  the  old  man 
feel  how  far  his  sons  were  gradually  becoming  sepa- 
rated from  the  paternal  branch,  and  without  being 
angry  with  them  about  it,  he  was  not  sorry  to  see  them 
depart. 


MARKOF. 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE    PRINCESS    CLEOPATRE. 

LIFE  began  again  for  the  young  men  in  the  same 
way  it  passed  the  winter  before,  but  with  a  great 
deal  more  work,  and  fewer  comforts.  Victor  was  at  his 
musical-instrument  maker's  during  the  day  and  with 
Benjamin  Roussof  till  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening; 
Demiane  was  at  the  Conservatoire  in  the  morning, 
giving  private  lessons  in  the  afternoon,  and  working 
away  alone  —  as  one  possessed  —  on  his  violin,  at  night, 
while  waiting  for  his  brother. 

Andrd  drew  from  them  the  confession  of  their  <li>aj>- 
pointment  at  their  father's  house,  and  he  listi-m-d  with 
a  benevolent  smile  to  Victor's  grievances. 

"Did  you   imagine,"   said   he   to   him,    "that  they 
would  be  grateful  to  you  for  your  generosity  ?    A  mis- 
take, my  good  friend !     I  do  not  know  why  people  talk 
of  useless  sacrifices!    The  very  essence  of  sa» -riiii •<• 
be  useless;  that  is  why,  when  one  does  such  things, 
one  must  not  clothe  them  with  the  name  of  sacri 
because  then  one  wishes  gratitude  in  return,  whi< •':. 
perfectly  ridiculous  claim;   one  must  giv»»  them   their 
true  name:  duty!    Under  that  appellation  they  require, 
nothing  from  anybody,  and  one  is  very  glad  to  have 
offered  them  to  the  world ! " 

This  maxim  was  one  of  those  which  Andre*  put  into 
practice,  and  our  friends  had  occasion  tu  notke  tmore 


202  MARK  OF. 

than  once.  They  had  some  bitter  moments  to  pass, 
but  the  merry  trio  endured  the  most  trying  days  with 
the  serenity  of  those  of  true  metal. 

Two  years  went  by  in  this  manner.  De'miane  made 
rapid  progress;  his  professor  made  no  more  sport  of 
him,  and  held  him  up  as  an  example  to  the  others  when 
he  was  not  present.  However  he  did  not  wish  to  pro- 
cure him  many  private  lessons,  which  he  might  have 
done  very  easily.  This  eccentric  man  pretended  that 
if  to  die  of  hunger  was  contrary  to  the  development  of 
an  artist,  that  to  feel  from  time  to  time  a  little  cramp  in 
one's  stomach  was  a  good  stimulus  to  genius.  Demiane 
reached  the  end  of  his  second  year  of  study  without 
suspecting  that  he  possessed  an  extraordinary  talent. 

A  few  da}rs  before  the  final  examination,  his  profes- 
sor, Veiiomine,  gave  him  one  of  his  violins. 

"  You  cannot  play  your  fiddle  at  the  examination," 
said  he  to  him,  "just  try  and  see  what  you  can  do 
with  this." 

Demiane,  with  unbounded  delight,  familiarized  him- 
self with  the  new  instrument  for  a  week,  and  the  day 
of  the  examination  having  arrived,  he  presented  him- 
self almost  with  boldness  before  the  select  public  who 
attend  these  solemn,  private  exhibitions. 

As  he  bowed  to  the  chairs  —  those  of  the  first  row 
were  not  filled  till  late,  and  in  spite  of  his  fine  self- 
possession,  which  was  considerable  for  a  debutant,  but 
would  not  have  been  very  great  in  any  other  person, 
our  friend  did  not  see  any  farther  than  the  nearest 
chairs  —  a  lady,  the  only  one  who  occupied  a  seat  in 
the  first  row,  put  her  eye-glass  deliberately  on  her 


MARKOF.  203 

nose  and  stared  at  him  as  though  he  were  the  Apollo 
iBelvidere — in  marble  —  instead  of  Ddmiane  Markof  in 
mesh  and  bones,  and  even  in  fluids  more  or  less  mag- 
Inetic,  some  of  which  shone  forth  from  his  troubled  eyes 
|  which  seemed  intoxicated  with  pride  or  joy. 

He  was  intoxicated,  in  reality,  intoxicated  with  his 
[certain  triumph,  and  with  the  future  which  he  sa\v 
dawning,  when  he  began  Ve*niavsky's  Polonaise,  the 
kame  which  had  won  for  him  the  distinction  of  being 
[listened  to  by  Verlomine.  He  felt  himself  young,  full 
lof  defects  and  faults,  overcharged  with  inexperience, 
land  yet  he  believed  he  had  only  to  strike  the  earth 
[with  his  foot,  like  Antaeus,  to  leap  full  of  force  into 
[the  arena  of  life,  and  to  defy  the  proudest  wrestlers. 

He  played  with  an  animation  which  ten  years  later 
Ihe  would  have  considered  in  bad  taste,  and  his  face, 
[that  was  mobile  to  excess,  expressed  a  thousand  different 
and  confused  sentiments.  While  a  thrill  of  satisfaction 
[ran  through  the  audience,  who  were  accustomed  to 
[hear  performances  of  this  kind,  the  lady  let  her  eye- 
[glass  fall,  but  did  not  on  account  of  this  lower  her 
Igaze,  and  she  examined  the  young  violinist  with  her 
Inaked  eye,  with  the  same  ease  with  which  she  had  just 
Idone  so  under  the  shelter  of  her  eye-glass;  only,  in 
order  to  see  him  the  better,  she  slightly  closed  her  right 
one,  which  by  an  anomaly  was  the  weaker  of  the  two. 

A  man  of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  slender,  distin- 
Bguished  looking,  and  a  little  worn,  but  still  very  hand- 
some, slowly  traversed  the  long  row  of  chairs  and  went 
and  seated  himself  by  the  lady  in  question,  who  be- 
stowed  a   slight   nod   upon   him,    without    disturbing 
Bherself  in  her  contemplation. 


204  MAKKOF. 

"A  pretty  stroke  of  the  bow,  is  it  not,  Princess?" 
said  the  new-comer  in  a  low  voice,  with  a  careless  tone. 
44  He  is  a  stranger;  they  have  kept  him  under  a  bell 
till  now ;  he  is  their  best  stroke,  and  I  presume  he  is 
going  to  have  the  first  prize.  Look  at  the  blooming 
faces  of  his  judges,  and  he,  the  poor  devil,  does  not 
seem  to  suspect  the  effect  he  is  producing!  That  is 
what  we  diplomatists  call  c  the  boldness  of  innocence.' 
You  say  nothing,  Princess;  do  you  not  think  he  has 
talent?  Your  decrees  are  laws,  you  know!  Do  you 
wish  to  annul  that  of  this  areopagus  ?  You  can  do  so 
yourself,  quite  alone." 

"  He  has  talent,"  said  the  Princess,  taking  up  her 
eye-glass. 

"  A  little  theatrical  in  his  pose,  eh?  " 

"  He  is  handsome." 

These  three  words  produced  a  singular  effect  upon 
the  diplomatist ;  he  was  slightly  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair  and  bending  over  towards  the  young  woman ; 
he  drew  himself  up  and  rested  naturally  on  the  opposite 
arm,  and  spoke  to  her  a  little  farther  off,  although  in 
that  diplomatic  and  restrained  voice  which  understands 
so  well  how  to  make  words  distinct  while  rendering 
them  audible  to  one  alone. 

"Yes,  Princess,  he  is  handsome,  as  handsome  as 
Antinous ;  he  is  a  young  demi-god,  and  he  has  magnifi- 
cent eyes.  The  woman  who  can  put  a  gleam  in  those 
eyes,  will  perhaps  discover  a  vein  of  gold.  But  there 
are  so  many  precious  metals  that  end  in  being  only 
vulgar  brass,  decorated  with  the  pompous  name  of  some 
composition  or  other." 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"It  is  by  use   that  one  perceives  it  when  they  have 
become  old!"  replied  the  Primes  in  a  curt  \ 
cruelly  emphasizing  the  word  nil.      I>ut   her  adversary 
\viis  not  one  of  those  whom  a  word  ean  o\vitlm>\v.      He 
smiled  and  continued  in  the  same  tone: 

"The  Prince?" 

"Thank  yon,  mon  cher,  he  is  always  the  same.  They 
have  ordered  him  to  the  baths  of  the  Caucasus." 

"That  is  very  far!  " 

"What  does  that  matter?  As  well  there  as  else- 
where." 

"  And  then,  the  Caucasus  is  new  to  you,  and  you  like 
novelty,  do  you  not,  Princess?" 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  continued  as  though  by 
chance  an  interrupted  conversation. 

"Do  you  know  that  young  man'/" 

The  Princess  made  a  negative  sign  with  her  head  and 
began  to  close  her  right  eye  again. 

"  His  name  is  Demiane  Markof." 

"How  do  you  know  it?"  said  she,  turning  round 
with  a  certain  vivacity. 

He  presented  her  a  programme,  on  whi«-h  the  name 
of  Markof  followed  another  that  was  well-known  to 
all  amateurs,  from  a  number  of  concerts  in  whirh  he 
had  appeared,  that  were  much  patronized  by  one  of  the 
professors. 

She  took  the  programme  and  let  it  fall  disdainfully, 
so  that  the  light  blue  paper  rolled  to  the  foot  of  the 
platform,  where  it  attracted  Mai  i  >n. 

"  Demiane !  It  is  a  name  of  the  clergy,"  said  she 
almost  out  loud. 


206  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

The  young  musician  was  recovering  his  breath  just 
then,  during  an  interval  of  silence ;  his  eyes  attracted 
by  the  paper  were  lifted  to  the  young  woman's  face. 

"  Bravo  !  "  said  the  diplomatist  in  a  low  voice,  as  he 
applauded  noiselessly  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  while 
fastening  his  slightly  ironical  look  on  the  performer. 
The  Princess  noticed  the  movement  and  comprehended 
its  intention.  She  trembled  and  leaned  forward. 

"  Bravo  !  "  she  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  applauding  so 
enthusiastically  with  her  nervous  hands  that  she  tore 
her  gloves. 

The  whole  audience,  according  to  the  immemorial 
and  sheep-like  custom  of  all  audiences,  applauded  with 
frenzy. 

Pale  and  dazzled,  nearly  staggering  under  the  weight 
of  an  emotion  which  he  had  never  before  experienced, 
Ddmiane  bowed;  but  his  look  met  the  Princess'  eyes, 
who  was  still  applauding,  and  it  was  to  her  that  he 
addressed  his  d&butantfs  bow,  which  was  awkward, 
timid  and  charming. 

He  continued  at  once  with  fresh  inspiration.  The 
inflections  which  he  had  conscientiously  practised  with 
his  professor  were  mingled  with  the  fire  of  a  new  im- 
petuosity, and  he  played  the  finale  of  the  piece  as  no 
one  perhaps  had  ever  played  it  before,  but  contrary  to 
the  traditional  rules. 

"  You  are  making  him  lose  his  first  prize,  Princess," 
said  the  diplomatist  to  his  beautiful  neighbor.  "  You 
owe  him  a  compensation." 

She  cast  a  half  flattered,  half  disdainful  glance  on 
the  indiscreet  talker,  and  ceased  looking  at  the  debutant. 

Vainly   he    endeavored    to    encounter   again   those 


MARKOF 


powerful  eyes  that  so  many  others  had 
I  before  him;  the  Princess,  who  was  impasM\  •»-,  did  nut 
I  bestow  the  slightest  glance  upon  him,  so  lung  as  he 
I  had  to  undergo  other  trials,  and  Ddmiane,  became  in  as- 
I!  ter  of  himself  again,  and  finished  in  the  most  brilliant 
I  manner.  In  fine,  he  was  awarded  the  first  prize;  and 
I  the  Princess,  who  only  waited  for  this  to  leave,  i 
I  and  stood  for  a  moment  offering  herself  to  the  young 

I  man's  eyes,  which  instinctively  sought  her,  and  he  read 

II  in  her  face  a  thousand  feelings:    encouragement  fur  the 
I  artist,  a  little  disdainful  sympathy,  and  admiration  for 
I  his  physical  beauty,  so  much  in  fact  that  he  could  not 
I  decipher  all  in  so  short  a  time  ;  and  then  she  turned 

•  her  back  upon  him  slowly,  and  reached  the  door  of 
I  exit  while  the  other  names  vainly  struck  the  ear  of  the 
I  handsome,  indifferent  woman. 

"It  was  for  me  that  she  remained!"   thought  he, 

•  blushing  more  at  the  boldness  of  his  thought  than  with 
I  joy  at  his  first  prize. 

"  She  thinks  she  has  found  a  mine  of  virgin  gold  !  " 

•  thought  the  diplomatist,  scrutinizing  Ddmiane's   face, 

•  "and  perhaps  she  is  going  to  dig  a  bottomless  abyss 
Jin  it." 

"  You  did  not  see  me  then,  brother  ?  "  said  Victor  to 
•De'miane  a  few  moments  later,  when  outside  at  the 
•door,  he  was  able  to  cling  to  his  arm.  "When  they 
•proclaimed  your  name  my  neck  was  stretched  towards 
•you,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  face  was  going  to 
•reach  your  cheek  to  kiss  you." 

"I  did  not  see  you,"  said  Ddmiane,  a  little  ashamed 
[at  remembering  that  at  that  moment  he  was  looking  at 
lithe  Princess,  a  woman  of  whom  he  knew  nothing. 


208  MARKOF. 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

A    RUSSIAN    VIOLIN. 

"TTvEMIANE  MARKOF,  who  received  the  first 
jLJ  violin  prize  of  the  Conservatoire,  will  have  the 
honor  of  giving  a  Concert  in  the  Hall  of  the  Petite 
Assembles  de  la  Noblesse,  on  Wednesday,  the  20th  of 
May,  186-,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening." 

This  advertisement,  which  was  placarded  every- 
where, would  not  have  attracted  a  sufficient  number 
of  hearers  if  Madame  Roussof  and  the  Professor  Ver- 
-omine  had  not  sold  tickets  for  it  with  remarkable 
energy,  especially  at  that  season  of  the  year  when  the 
amateur  musical  public  emigrates  in  large  bodies  to 
the  interior  of  the  country.  It  was,  perhaps,  because 
this  concert  would  be  the  last  one,  perhaps  also, 
because  until  then,  they  had  not  made  much  noise 
about  Markof,  that  when  the  young  man  appeared 
upon  the  platform,  the  hall  was  almost  full.  Instinct- 
ively he  cast  a  glance  on  the  first  row  of  chairs ;  he 
saw  there  people  of  all  kinds,  young,  old,  ugly  and 
handsome,  —  though  there  were  few  of  the  latter, — 
but  not  the  smallest  curl  of  hair  that  could  recall  to 
him  the  lady  whose  eyes  had  so  interrogated  him  at  the 
Conservatoire.  As  he  was  finishing  his  examination,  a 
little  disappointed,  he  perceived  the  keen,  ironical  face 
of  the  diplomatist,  who  smiled  almost  imperceptibly. 
This  smile  completely  disconcerted  the  poor  fellow,  and 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 


209 


first   piece   betrayed  the  reflection  of  liis  inward 
totion;  they  said  to  themselves,  in  different  places  in 
hall,  "that  these  gentlemen  of  the  Conservatoire 
jver   do   anything   else!     They  spare   no   efforts,  in 
ler  to  bestow  upon  the  public  some  dry  fruit,  about 
[hich  they  are  crazy  !  " 

While  a  well  known  pianist  executed  the  Rhapsodic 
fyngroise,  and  made  enough  noise  to  overpower  that  of 
earthquake,   Verlornine   attacked  D6miane  in  the 
:tists'  room. 

Unlucky  fellow !"  said  he  to  him,  "you  are  turn- 
us  into  ridicule.  You  are  betraying  the  moral 
igagement  which  you  have  contracted  with  us !  You 
playing  like  the  orchestra-leader  of  a  dririkiiig- 
lloon !  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  Can  you  not 
mse  yourself?" 

I  am  afraid,"  said  Demiane,  dispirited. 
"  That  is  not  true !     You  are  not  afraid !     You  were 
)t  afraid  when  you  went  in !     You  were  not  afraid  the 
[iher  day  at  the  examination ! " 

I  am  sad,"  said  Demiane,   who  was  incapable  of 
llling  a  falsehood,  incapable  also,  of  checking  the^bit- 
[rness  that  rose  from  his  heart  to  his  lips.     She  ought 
have  been  there,  that  woman!     She  ought  to  have 
ui !     She  certainly  knew  that  he  was  going  to  play, 
did  she  not  come?     But  it  was  impossible  to  bo 
irtained. 

"  You  are  sad  ?     Because  you  are  going  to  earn  a  pile 

money  as  big  as  yourself  ?     A  receipt  of  two  thous- 

id  roubles  and  all  the  expenses  paid ;  and  the  man  is 


>t  happy  ? 


No  poetry, 
13 


I 


beg 


of  you !     No  melan- 


210  MA.RKOF. 

choly  either.  I  detest  affectation.  Go  in  and  try  to 
show  some  nerve." 

De'miane,  thus  encouraged,  went  to  the  hall ;  his 
entrance  was  not  a  brilliant  one,  as  he  had  disappointed 
the  public,  and  the  most  indulgent  people,  even  those 
who  talked  of  "  the  unavoidable  embarrassment  of  a  first 
debut"  did  not  dare  to  applaud  too  much.  He  advanced, 
resigned  to  everything,  even  to  a  complete  failure, 
which  would  have  annihilated  the  hopes  he  had  cher- 
ished for  so  many  years.  He  was  in  the  state  of  mind 
of  a  man  who  sees  a  railway  train  coming  upon  him, 
and  who  cannot  leave  the  track,  held  there  by  terror, 
and  paralyzed  at  the  sight  of  an  imminent  catastrophe. 

"  Strike  Za,  if  you  please,"  said  he  to  the  accom- 
panist. 

The  latter  gave  the  required  note,  though  surprised 
that  De'miane  had  not  taken  the  precaution  to  tune  his 
violin  before  entering.  The  young  man  made  the  string 
resound  in  his  ear,  in  order  to  gain  a  little  time.  Sud- 
denly his  face  lit  up,  and  a  new  strength  and  tri- 
umphant joy  pervaded  all  his  being :  the  unknown  lady 
of  the  Conservatoire  advanced  slowly  towards  the  plat- 
form. "With  head  erect  and  slightly  thrown  backwards, 
the  features  of  her  face  expressed  nothing  but  the  sat- 
isfaction of  pride,  and  the  assurance  of  disdain ;  she 
drew  after  her  the  folds  of  a  superb  dress,  and  walked 
quite  alone,  as  if  to  assert  her  indifference  to  the  world. 
She  went  straight  to  her  chair  near  the  diplomatist,  and 
sank  into  it  without  having  cast  a  look  around  her. 

Ddmiane  placed  his  bow  on  the  strings,  and  a  thril- 
ling joy,  an  intense  vibration  passed  from  the  violin  into 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  211 

all  his  being,  even  to  the  ends  of  his  hair,  that  stood 
slightly  erect,  influenced  by  a  current  of  electricity. 
Immediately  the  bow  sang  divinely,  as  though  borne 
away  on  invisible  wings,  and  the  young  man  while  per- 
I  forming  a  classical  sonata  for  the  majority  of  his  audi- 
tors, made  the  practised  ears  of  some  among  them  listen 
to  a  magnificent  hymn  to  love  and  youth. 

She  did  not  look  at  him ;  with  her  head  bent  down, 
Jshe  was  playing  with  the  tassel  of  her  fan,  and  seemed 
|as  indifferent  to  the  music  as  to  the  audience,  but  what 
did  that  matter  to  Ddmiane?  The  mysterious  pro- 
hector,  the  good  fairy  who  had  made  him  win  his  first 
Iprize  had  come,  —  come  for  him  this  time,  because  his 
jname  had  caught  her  eye  on  the  advertisement ;  —  was 
Ithat  not  enough  for  his  pride  and  his  happiness  ? 

Ddmiane  stopped,  the  allegro  was  finished.  They 
•applauded  him  with  frenzy,  as  that  good  Russian  public, 
nyhich  is  the  most  enthusiastic  and  the  best  knows  how 
•to  applaud.  He  bowed  as  he  poised  his  bow  to  attack 
|he  andante.  She  gently  raised  her  proud  head  and 
[fastened  on  him  a  thoughtful  and  penetrating  look, 
Ivhich  made  him  thrill  from  his  head  to  his  feet. 

For  her,  he  made  the  instrument  sing  like  a  human 
•bice ;  it  was  the  sonorous  wood  that  was  bidden  to 
Ixpress  to  her  all  the  caresses  of  a  virgin  heart,  which 
Iras  suddenly  opened  to  the  most  intoxicating,  the  most 
fciritual  love,  that  of  an  immortal  being  for  an  iiiiup- 
•roachable  star,  a  love  that  is  all  the  madder  because  it 
|oes  not  fear  to  wound  its  object ;  for  it  is  placed  so 

Igh  that  nothing  can  reach  it. 
"Do  you  wish  to  bewitch  him  then?"  Count  Raben 


212  MARK  OF. 

asked  his  lovely  neighbor,  who  began  to  play  with  her 
fan  again. 

"  That  does  not  concern  you,"  she  replied,  without 
looking  at  him. 

"  Does  that  young  adept  of  the  fiddle  really  please 
you?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  a  little,  and  the  fringe  of 
her  burnous  fell  on  the  diplomatist's  arm. 

"  Have  you  read  Dalila,  Princess  ? "  continued  the 
latter  without  moving. 

"Dalila?    I  think  I  have.     Well?" 

"Do  you  remember  Roswein?  Do  not  ruin  this 
superb  lily  in  its  bloom,  which  has  no  intention  of  spin- 
ning and  which  nevertheless  wishes  to  be  superbly 
clothed,  like  all  lilies." 

"  And  you,  you  make  me  rather  think  of  Carnioli," 
said  the  Princess,  with  an  accent  of  such  concentrated 
anger  that  it  made  the  words  seem  like  a  blow. 

Count  Raben  bowed  slightly.  "  Coming  from  a 
lady,  from  you,  Princess,  a  cutting  word  is  only  flat- 
tery  to  him  who  receives  it.  When  one  has  to  right 
with  such  an  adversary  as  yourself,  it  is  an  honor  to  be 
pricked." 

"  Leave  me  alone  !  "  returned  the  Princess  in  a  bad 
temper. 

The  andante  slowly  unrolled  its  passionate  changes; 
it  went  and  returned  on  itself,  disclosing  the  theme  of 
a  closer  and  closer  embrace ;  at  length  the  motif 
ascended  to  Heaven,  while  De'miane,  who  was  trans- 
ported far  above  the  world,  put  all  his  soul  in  it  to  lay 
it  at  the  feet  of  his  unknown  one. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  213 

"  Thank  him  then ! "  said  Raben,  with  Ids  sarcastic 
Ismile,  "you  surely  owe  it  to  him  !  " 

"  Do  you  defy  me  to  do  it  ?  "  said  the  Princess ;  and 
I  with  a  splendidly  insolent  gesture,  she  lifted  the  drapery 
Ithat  hid  her  gloved  hands  and  raising  them  slightly, 
[applauded  without  making  a  sound,  but  in  the  most 
•demonstrative  manner. 

"  That  is  not  enough,"  said  Raben. 

"Agreed,"  said  she  haughtily.  And  as  Demiane, 
•while  bowing  to  the  public,  bent  towards  her  a  suppl- 
icating look,  she  distinctly,  although  in  a  low  voice, 
jpronounced  the  word :  Thanks. 

"Then,  it  is  decided,  you  are  going  to  take  upon 
jyourself  the  task  of  rendering  him  immortal  ? "  said 
feaben  to  his  beautiful  enemy,  while  she  turned  on  him 
la  look  of  defiance. 

"  It  is  not  yourself  who  will  ever  be  immortal !  "  she 
•paid  to  him  ironically. 

"Because  you  do  not  wish  it,"  he  replied  with  perfect 
leal  Ian  try. 

"  Oh !  mon  cher,  he  is  not  immortal  who  wishes  to  be 
[BO.  One  must  first  have  genius !  " 

All  this  took  place  in  the  most  courteous  manner,  in 
Ik  low  tone,  without  gestures,  but  with  their  shadows, 
jlvith  mere  suggestions  of  movements,  as  it  should  be 
•between  people  in  the  best  society,  in  which  the  h-ast 
•gesture  presumes  self  importance.  They  exchanged 
these  words  which  were  as  sharp  as  swords,  and  no  one 
(behind  them  suspected  them.  Ddmiane  who  had  become 
jbale,  looked  at  them  anxiously,  divining  that  what  they 
ivere  talking  about  concerned  him.  She  looked  at 


214  MARK  OF. 

him — the  look  did  not  last  even  as  long  as  a  flash 
of  lightning,  so  rapidly  did  it  glide  between  the  young 
woman's  lowered  eye-lids, —  but  he  gained  renewed 
courage  from  it  and  finished  the  sonata  with  a  fire  that 
won  the  approval  of  the  most  unwilling.  Recalled 
three  times,  he  returned  to  bow  to  the  public  his 
master,  who,  for  the  moment  asked  nothing  better  than 
to  become  his  slave  ;  then  he  retired  to  the  artist's  room, 
where  he  was  loaded  with  praise  from  those  whom,  a 
half  an  hour  before  had  so  roughly  attacked  him.  He 
listened  to  them  mechanically,  smiling,  thanking  and 
shaking  hands  to  the  right  and  left,  and  only  hearing  in 
reality  one  word,  that  thanks  which  his  eyes  had  divined 
from  the  movement  of  the  Princess'  lips,  but  of  which 
his  ear  had  not  caught  the  sound. 

"  The  Princess  Re*dine  looks  at  you  admiringly ! " 
said  Verlomine  unceremoniously,  almost  aloud.  "  She 
will  make  your  reputation,  provided  you  are  amiable 
to  her,  to  her  dog,  to  her  maid,  and  even  to  her  hus- 
band." 

"Is  she  married?"  asked  De*miane  who,  of  all  this 
speech,  had  only  heard  the  young  woman's  name,  and 
the  word  "  husband." 

"At  thirty-five  years  of  age,  if  she  were  not,  she 
would  have  but  little  chance  of  ever  being!  " 

"Thirty-five  years  old?  Who  is  thirty-five  years 
old?  "  said  the  young  man,  thinking  he  made  a  mistake. 

"  The  lady  seated  there,  in  the  corner  to  the  right ; 
by  leaning  forward  a  little,  you  can  see  her  from  here, 
with  pearls  around  her  neck,  and  the  handsome  Ruben 
at  her  side." 


MARKOF.  215 

It  was  she  !  With  what  irreverence  these  scoundrels 
Btreated  her ! 

Much  shocked,  Ddmiane  was  going  to  utter  some 
jabsurd  protestation  ;  but  Verlomine  prevented  him  : 

"  She  will  tell  you  that  she  is  only  twenty-eight,  and 
jthat  will  be  very  nice  of  her,  for  she  does  not  seem  to 
Ike  more  than  twenty-seven.  Be  amiable  to  her  hus- 
Iband,  for  that  is  an  essential  condition."' 

"Does  she  love  him  very  much?"  said  Ddmiane  with 
la  vague  heartache. 

A  smile  dawned  on  the  caustic  professor's  lips. 

"  That  does  not  concern  either  one  or  the  other 
fcf  us,  my  dear  child.  However  that  may  be,  con- 
traiy  to  the  majority  of  women, —  of  women  of  her 
IK  hid, —  she  shows  the  old  Prince  a  regard  that  is 
jhiute  touching  and  thus  gives  tone  to  her  surround- 
:IIL;\S.  It  is  an  excellent  example,  and  one  that  shows 
I  he  most  critical  taste,  and  is  the  proof  of  a  very  rare 
intelligence." 

"Is  the  Prince  old?"  asked  Ddmiane,  who  was 
listening  without  understanding,  or  rather,  without 
•vishing  to  understand. 

I  "  He  is  sixty-eight  years  old ;  he  was  wounded  in  the 
•lead  in  1855,  and  his  intelligence  was  rather  seriously 
Impaired  by  it;  but  the  admirable  care  which  his  wife 
Irishes  on  him,  cannot  fail  to  preserve  to  him  for  a 
long  time  the  little  brightness  which  Providence  lias 
lift  him." 

Ddmiane  looked  at  the  professor:  the  latter  M.IS 
Imperturbable  :  no  one  had  ever  been  able  to  discover 
Idiether  he  was  joking  or  not,  when  he  was  determined 


216  MA  UK  OF. 

to  appear  serious :  moreover,  the  poor  fellow  had  many 
other  things  in  his  mind,  and  hastened  in  pursuit  of  an 
artist,  who  was  making  preparations  to  leave,  pretend- 
ing he  would  not  have  time  to  undertake  his  part  at 
the  rate  the  concert  was  going  on,  and  that  he  was 
expected  at  a  soire'e  where  he  had  promised  to  play. 
With  a  great  deal  of  persuasion,  Markof  succeeded  in 
inducing  him  to  remain,  on  condition  that  he  should 
play  next.  This  arrangement  interfered  with  all  the 

closing  pieces  of  the  concert,  but  Mademoiselle  K 

had  not  come,  and  in  some  way  or  other,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  fill  up  the  void,  without  giving  the  audience 
cause  to  complain. 

"  What  an  undertaking,  mon  Dieu  !  what  an  undei 
taking  it  is  to  give  a  concert !   sighed  Demiane,  wh< 
the  difficulties  were  smoothed  over. 

"You  complain!     We  have  done  the  most  difficult 
part  for   you !  "    replied    Verlomine.      "  You  will 
what  it  will  be  when  you  are  quite  alone  !  "    Generally 
my  friend,  when  every  thing  is  made  ready,  when  th( 
hall   is  lighted,  when  the   public  has    come   and   th< 
artists  are  late,  the  king  of  the  feast  is  overcome  with 
frightful  headache,  and  has  no  other  thought  except 
go  home  and  go  to  bed." 

When  Demiane  returned  to  the  hall,  the  Prince* 
was  gone  !     It  seemed  to  the  poor  youth  that  all  the 
lights  had  simultaneously  gone  out,  and  that  the  worlc 
was  bounding  through  space,  in  the  blackest  darkm 
He  nerved  himself,  nevertheless,  to  meet  this  nne: 
pectedblow;  the  young  woman's  manner  inspired  hii 
with  the  conviction  that  he  would  see  her  again,  ai 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  '2  1  7 

this  conviction  gave  him  the  courage  to  accomplish  the 
rest  of  his  task  without  too  much  weariness. 

When  all  was  over,  when  he  had  received  every 
one's  congratulations,  and  given  fees  to  an  incalculable 
number  of  dirty  hands,  which  seemed  to  multiply  them- 
selves in  an  inordinate  manner,  Ddmiane  found  himself 
in  the  street  with  Victor,  who  during  all  the  evening 
had  neither  made  a  movement  nor  spoken  a  word. 
Hidden  on  a  sofa,  behind  a  great  heap  of  neck  hand- 
kerchiefs and  great-coats,  he  contented  himself  with 
watching  his  brother,  with  the  submissive  and  happy 
eyes  of  a  dog  who  contemplates  his  master. 

"Ah!"  said  Demiane,  "I  am  worn  out!  I  would 
like  to  lie  down  there,  on  the  pavement,  and  sleep  until 
mid-day  to-morrow." 

"  Let  us  go  home,"  said  Victor  joyfully,  taking  him 
by  the  arm  ;  "  let  us  go  home  as  quickly  as  possible  ; 
give  me  the  violin,  I  will  carry  it." 

Ddmiane  allowed  himself  to  be  led ;  they  got  into  a 
drosky  and  went  jolting  through  the  badly  paved 
streets  of  old  Moscow,  then  through  those  of  new 
Moscow,  which  are  equally  bad.  Above  their  heads, 
the  greyish  azure  of  the  northern  summer  nights  was 
studded  with  the  feeble  light  of  the  stars.  It  was  tl !«•<•> 
northern  nights  which  the  poet  must  have  had  in  mind, 
when  he  said : 

"  Et  Vaube  douce  et  pdle,  en  attendant  son  heure 
Semble  toute  la  nuit  errer  au  las  du  del" 

For  in  truth,  near  the  horizon,  do  the  gilded,  myste- 
rious lights  float  which  proclaim  the  setting  sun,  or  the 


218  MARKOF. 

approaching  dawn,  and  which  make  one  dream  of  a 
thousand  things,  and  cause  a  thousand  dwindled  hopes. 
These  nights  banish  the  mirage  of  the  past,,  and  are 
overflowing  with  thoughts  of  the  future. 

The  day  was  not  far  distant, — it  comes  very  early  at 
that  period  of  the  year  ! — the  east  was  already  growing 
bright  when  the  two  brothers  alighted  before  their 
small  house.  A  light  shone  in  Andre's  window,  the 
only  one  that  they  had  seen  for  a  long  while  during 
their  passage  through  the  sleeping  streets,  where  in 
summer  the  gas  is  never  burning. 

"  Andre*  has  not  gone  to  bed,"  said  Demiane,  yawn- 
ing. 

"  He  wishes  to  know  how  the  concert  has  succeeded," 
Victor  replied  with  an  expression  of  strange  delight. 

The  drosky  went  away  slowly,  and  our  friends  en- 
tered their  home.  Andre*  was  awaiting  them  in  their 
own  room,  with  a  candle  in  his  hand. 

"  Well ! "  said  he  laconically. 

"  Superb  ! "  replied  Victor,  who  seemed  to  have 
regained  his  speech,  in  proportion  as  his  brother  lost 
his. 

"  I  congratulate  you ! "  said  Andre",  energetically 
shaking  the  artist's  hand. 

"I  thank  you,  but  I  am  nearly  dead!"  said  Ddmi- 
ane,  who  in  truth  was  staggering  from  fatigue  and 
sleeplessness. 

He  was  going  to  throw  himself  on  his  bed,  all 
dressed ;  the  two  young  men  stopped  him  with  a  ges- 
ture of  alarm. 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  my  fine  new  dress-coat ! " 


MARKOF. 


219 


lid  De'miane,  wishing  to  resist  them.    "I  have  been  on 

feet  for  ten  hours,  I  must  stretch  myself  out." 
"  It  is  not  that,"  said  Victor,  still  wearing  his  tri- 
imphant  smile;  "  there  is  something  on  your  bed." 

He  raised  a  napkin,  and  Demiane  perceived  lying  in 
lis  place,  with  its  head  on  the  pillow,  the  well-known 
>rm  of  a  violin-case. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  said  he,  awakened  by  the  strange- 
Less  of  the  sight.     Cases  for  stringed  instruments  have 
vague  resemblance  to  a  little  coffin. 
"  Look ! "  said  Ladof.     Victor  held  his  breath. 
De'niiane   put  out  his  hand  carefully,  touched  the 
)bject  and  drew  the  case  towards  him;  it  was  heavy; 
carried  it   to  the  small,  old  piano,  opened  it,  and 
jtood  motionless. 

In  its  red  cloth  case,  which  was  carefully  padded,  a 
superb  violin  reposed  on  its  back;  the  ebony  bow  hud 
place  in  the  lid,  and  Ddmiane-s  initials  were  visible 
m  both. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  he  recovering  his  breath. 
"It  is  for  you,   brother;    it    is  your   violin!"  ex- 
jlaimed  Victor,  incapable  of  containing  himself;   "it 
your  own  violin,  with  which  you  will  become  cele- 
brated!" 

Excitedly  and  without  replying  Demiane  seized  the 
jtrument,  mechanically  tuned  two  strings,  and  drew 
bow  slowly  twice  over  the  same  note,  which  gave 
>rth  a  deep,  full,  sweet  and  vibrating  sound,  like  the 
lost  beautiful  tenor  voice. 

"  It  is  good,  I  will  answer  for  it !  "  said  Ladof,  who 
been  mute  till  then. 


220  M  A  R  K  O  F  » 

Demiane  replaced  the  violin,  looked  at  it,  then  looked 
at  his  friends. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  he.  "  That  violin  must 
have  cost  a  fearful  price." 

"  It  is  very  simple,  however ! "  said  Ladof,  with 
his  usual  calmness.  "  You  had  not  the  wherewithal 
to  buy  a  Stradivarius,  nor  I  to  make  you  a  present 
of  one,  so  your  brother  made  you  a  Markof !  That 
is  all. 

"  It  was  you,  Victor,  who  made  this !  "  said  De'miane, 
pale  with  emotion,  for  he  began  to  understand. 

"  Andre*  helped  me  a  great  deal !  "  modestly  replied 
Victor,  who  had  become  the  color  of  a  wild  rose,  and 
as  small  as  a  little  mouse  in  his  great  humility. 

"  With  my  advice,"  said  Ladof,  correcting  him. 

De'miane  remained  silent,  then  his  face  was  covered 
quickly  with  tears ;  he  hid  it  at  first  in  his  hands,  but 
laying  aside  all  false  pride,  he  let  it  be  seen  without  any 
shame,  and  held  out  a  hand  to  each  of  them : 

"  Oh  !  my  friends !  "  said  he,  "  my  friends  !  " 

He  could  find  nothing  else  to  say  to  them,  and 
what  could  he  have  added  to  that  cry  of  the  soul? 
Were  they  not  indeed  his  friends  ? 

"  We  have  worked  at  it  for  a  long  time,"  said  Victor ; 
"  the  case  has  been  made  for  fifteen  months ;  it  was 
seasoned  for  a  }rear,  and  it  took  us  three  months  to 
finish  it.  And,  De'miane,  do  you  know,  I  had  an  idea, 
but  I  did  not  understand  it  —  " 

"  I  understood  it  though,  very  clearly,"  interrupted 
Andre.  "We  have  violinists,  but  we  have  no  violins! 
All  our  instruments  are  made  by  Germans,  and  it  has 


MARKOF. 

vexed  me  for  a  long  while  !     I.ut,  us  in  myself,  I  have 
no  ambition;  some  day  I  will  go  and  cat  my  l.ul; 
on   the  banks  of  the  Don,  and   I   will  make  no  more 
violins  except  for  my  children  if  I  have  anv,  for  the 
hildren  of  other  folks,  if  I  do  not  marry.     Yin 
consumed   by  ambition!     Just  as  you  see  him  i 
tie  has  more  ambition  in  his  small  form  than  you,  my 
*reat  De'miane,  in  all  your  endless  body,     lie  saw  in 
his  dreams  German  violins  and   Nuremberg  alb- 
ting  on  his  stomach  and  lolling  their  tongues  at  him, 
whieh  gave  him  the  most  frightful  nightmares !      So, 
be  wished  to  make  a  Russian  violin,  Russian  in  e 
part,  and  I  think  he  has  succeeded." 

De'miane  took  up  the  violin  again  and  played  the 
fir>t  thirty  measures  of  the  allegro  of  the  sonata. 

"It  is  a  pearl !"  exclaimed  he,  "without  a  fault !  oh ! 
Victor,  you  are  worth  a  thousand  times  more  than 
myself!" 

Victor  smiled  ;  his  joy  was  diffused  around  him,  he 
looked  as  though  he  were  being  borne  on  a  shield  of 
roses. 

"For  a  Russian  artist,"  said  he,  "a   Ru-ian  violin 
was  necessary.     We  have  the  artist  and  the  instrun. 
Vive  !  our  Russia  !    Vive  !  our  country !  1 1 1 1  rra  1 1  ! ' 

The  old  house  trembled  under  the  joyful  cry  of 
friends,  and  they  heard  the  proprietress  in  the  i; 
who  slept  soundly,  turn  herself  over  and  moan,  think- 
ing doubtless  that  it  was  thundering. 

"Let  us  go  to  bed,"  said  Andre,  blowing  out  his 
candle  ;  "  it  is  broad  day-light." 

An  hour  later,  Victor  waking   suddenly,  perct 


222  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

his  brother's  opened  eyes ;  he  had  retired  but  he  was 
lying  very  wide  awake,  and  was  attentively  look- 
ing at  the  violin  case,  which  was  placed  opposite  to 
him. 

"Are  you  not  sleeping  ?  "  said  he  to  him ;  "  you  were 
so  tired?" 

"  I  am  not  tired  any  longer,  brother,"  said  Ddmiane, 
in  a  sweet  voice,  as  though  in  a  dream  ;  "  life  is  pleas- 
ant and  I  am  happy." 


M  ARKOF. 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

A   MESSAGE. 

THE  next  day,  about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  as 
the  two  brothers  were  finishing  their  tea,  a  tall 
fellow  with  an  important  air  appeared  on  the  horizon  of 
the  square.  After  having  rung  at  two  or  three  houses 
which  presented  a  better  appearance,  he  decided  at 
last  to  approach  the  small,  old  building;  the  proprie- 
tress' name,  however,  was  plainly  written  on  the  letter 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  he  had  seen  it  as  he 
passed  above  the  door;  but  this  man,  who  was  imbued 
with  aristocratic  notions,  preferred  to  take  several  use- 
less steps  rather  than  to  incur  the  possibility  of  con- 
taminating the  feet  of  his  noble  valet  de  chambre  on 
the  threshold  of  so  wretched  a  dwelling;  no  one 
whom  his  masters  deigned  to  honor  with  a  mi 
could,  or  should  dwell  in  so  poor  a  house.  Obliged, 
however,  to  yield  to  evidence,  he  rang  with  a  firm  hand 
and,  at  the  stroke,  Petit-Gris,  who  was  alarmed,  took 
flight  across  the  table,  in  a  way  that  seriously  en- 
dangered the  equilibrium  of  the  tea-pot  on  the  samo\  ar. 
The  proprietress  descended  the  wooden  stairway  with  ;i 
haste  which  was  none  the  less  characteristic,  opened  the 
door,  and  entered  into  conversation  with  the  magnifi- 
cent messenger,  who  retired  shortly  with  a  majestic  step. 
"  A  letter  for  Monsieur  Markof,  from  the  Princess 
Re*dine ;  there  is  no  answer,"  said  the  good  woman  as 
she  withdrew. 


224  MARKOF. 

Monsieur  Markof  could  only  be  Demiane.  He 
extended  his  arm  and  opened  the  envelope  without 
Victor's  having  any  thought  of  claiming  it. 

"  Who  is  the  Princess  Redine  ?  "  innocently  asked 
the  good  youth,  "and  what  can  she  want  of  you?  " 

"  Some  work  for  next  winter,"  replied  De'miane,  lay- 
ing on  the  table  the  thick,  heavy,  unpolished  English 
paper,  whose  folds  had  resisted  the  pressure  of  the 
envelope,  and  opened  of  themselves. 

"  Some  lessons  ?  " 

"  No,  not  exactly,  some  accompaniments,  if  you  like 
that  better.  It  is  to  play  sonatas  for  the  violin  and 
piano." 

"  Next  winter,  that  is  far  away ! "  said  Victor,  who 
would  have  preferred  to  have  them  begin  at  once. 

"  Yes,  it  is  far  away ! "  repeated  Demiane,  with  a 
sigh. 

"A  Princess!  show  me  her  handwriting."  He  seized 
the  letter,  not  without  a  slight  movement  on  his 
brother's  part,  indicating  his  desire  to  keep  it  to  him- 
self; but  Victor  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  read  aloud 
in  Russ : 

"  The  Princess  Cldopatre  Redine,  who  is  just  leaving 
for  the  baths  of  Piatigorsk,  begs  Monsieur  Markof  to 
reserve  her  some  hours  for  next  winter,  so  that  they 
can  play  some  music  together.  The  Princess  intends 
returning  near  the  month  of  November ! "  The  address 
followed. 

"  The  month  of  November  !  "  exclaimed  Victor. 

"  The  Greek  Kalends !  "  said  Ladof  from  the  thresh- 
old of  the  door ;  he  was  not  going  to  work,  having 
reserved  himself  a  holiday  to  pass  with  his  friends. 


MARK  OF.  , 

No,"  replied  Demiane  firmly,  while  liis  eyes  shone 
ith  a  strange  fire,  that  was  half  wrathful,  halt'  tri- 
phant,  "  it  is  serious." 
"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

I  like  her ;  she  was  at  the  concert  yesterday,  she 

at  the  Conservatoire."     He  stopped  and  bit  his 
ngue  ;  what  more  could  he  say  ? 
"  A  patron,  then  ?    It  is  perfect.   Is  she  young  or  old  ? ' ' 
"  Young,"  replied  Demiane,  reluctantly. 
"  Handsome  or  ugly  ?  " 
"  Handsome,  so  it  seems  to  me." 
"  Hurrah !    for   beauty !  "  said   Ladof  coldly,  which 
ntrasted  strongly  with  his  enthusiastic  words. 

"And  she  lives? " 

Victor  read  the  address  again. 

I "  My  good  fellow,"  said  Ladof,  still  coldly,  "  your 
-tune  is  made." 
|" Eh?"  snid  Dthniane,  straightening  himself  as  though 

had  received  a  blow  from  a  whip. 
|u  A  young  and  beautiful  Princess,  who  patronizes  the 
?ts,  and   who   makes   a   rendezvous  for   six  months 
[ead,  cannot  fail  to  have  the  most  generous  intentions 
regard  to  you." 

Do  you  know  her?"  asked  the  young  artist,  instinct- 
ily  wounded  at  Andre's  tone. 

By  reputation." 

Well,  what?     What  is  there  to  say  about  it?"  con- 
uied  Ddmiane,  a  little  bitterly. 

Nothing  at  all !     From  my  point  of  view,  nothing 
| all.     When  one  is  rich  and  powerful,  one  does  as  one 

ses;   truth  to  say,  that   is  the  principal   value   of 
Ihes  and  of  power." 


226  MARK  OF. 

Demiane  had  arisen  and  was  walking  up  and  down 
the  room,  at  the  risk  of  knocking  against  the  table  and 
of  treading  on  Petit-Gris'  agitated  tail,  who  looked  at 
him  displeased. 

"  How  singular,"  said  he,  after  having  taken  two  or 
three  turns,  "  is  that  desire  of  disparaging  people  whom 
one  does  not  know !  It  is  sufficient  that  a  woman 
should  be  amiable  and  rich  for  calumny  at  once  to 
attack  her " 

Ladof  put  his  hand  on  the  artist's  arm  and  stopped 
him  short  in  his  speech  as  well  as  in  his  walk. 

•  "  Do  you  know  her  then,  so  well  ? "    said  he,  tran- 
quilly, "  that  you  talk  about  calumny  ?  " 

"I?     Not  at  all!" 

"  You  do  not  know  her  at  all,  and  here  for  this 
woman  whom  you  do  not  know,  whom  you  have  seen 
twice,  you  accuse  your  friend  of  several  years  standing, 
with  calumniating — your  friend  who  has  shared  with 
your  brother  the  right  of  loving,  of  encouraging,  and 
of  advising  you " 

Demiane  shook  off  the  hand  that  held  his  arm,  and 
tried  to  turn  aAvay. 

"  You  will  not  make  me  angry,"  said  Ladof,  who  was 
still  calm.  "  I  tell  you  that  you  treat  me  like  a  trouble- 
some person,  like  a  tutor,  like  an  old  imbecile,  and  this, 
for  a  woman  whom  you  do  not  know;  she  looked  into 
your  eyes,  did  she  not?  and  you  have  lost  your  head? 
Well !  go,  my  friend,  go  where  destiny  impels  you  I 
After  all,  perhaps  destiny  does  not  trouble  itself  about 
you.  That  woman  is  clever,  and  she  is  going  away. 
When  she  returns,  you  will  have  another  one  in  your 
head!" 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  227 

He  laughed  softly,  with  his  peaceful  laugh  which 
[denoted  such  a  perfect  self-possession,  and  it  calmed 
[Demiane's  irritation. 

It  had  often  resounded  in  their  aesthetical,  political 
Band  other  discussions,  this  laugh  of  a  man  who  knows 
fife  and  who  understands  how  to  excuse  all  weak- 
messes.  Andre*  had  laughed  at  his  Utopian  dreams 
land  at  himself,  with  the  same  simplicity  with  which 
me  laughed  at  others  on  certain  occasions.  All  Victor's 
treat  plans,  all. Demiane's  poetical  chimeras,  were  \\i-\- 
Ipomed  with  this  kind  laugh,  and  they  had  always  joined 
ftn  it,  irresistibly  won  over  by  his  frankness  and  his 
bood  nature. 

The  effect  this  time  was  the  same.  Ddiniane  held 
put  his  hand  to  Lad  of  and  said  to  him  : 

"  I  am  a  fool !  " 

"  Certainly  you  are,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  but  I 
Inust  confess,  it  requires  a  certain  dose  of  good  SCUM* 
BO  recognize  it.  Beware  of  Undines,  my  friend, be \\uic 
jpf  protecting  fairies  —  Carolines  are  much  less  danger- 
j[)us  —  to  speak  the  truth  they  are  not  dangerous  at  all : 
Ik  woman  who  smells  of  onions,  and  who  puts  rose 
Jpomade  on  her  hair,  can  only  be  dangerous  to  a  boot- 
Irnaker's  apprentice.  Victor,  could  you  imagine  a  boot- 
jiiaker's  apprentice  infringing  on  his  patron's  money-box 
•to  carry  off  a  Caroline  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  any  Caroline,"  said  Victor,  naively. 

"  Your  brother  knew  one." 

"Will  you  be  silent?"  said  Ddmiane.  "You  will 
llhock  my  house-maid." 

"Oh!  for  my  part,"  said  Victor,  "I  am  never 
Ihocked  at  anything.  Youth  must  have  its  day !  " 


228  MARK  OF. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A     WANDERING     MOOD. 

"  T TT  HAT  are  you  going  to  do  now,  my  two  nabobs?  " 
T  T  said  Monsieur  Roussof  to  the  young  men  when 
they  went  to  pay  him  a  visit,  two  days  after  the  con- 
cert. 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  said  Demiane  with  hesitation,  as 
he  looked  at  his  brother  from  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
"so  has  Victor " 

"  Two  ideas !  " 

"  No,  the  same  one ;  if  we  remain  in  Moscow,  we 
shall  spend  all  our  money." 

Monsieur  Roussof  made  a  sign  which  signified  that  he 
did  not  doubt  it. 

"  So,  like  other  artists,  we  thought  of  making  a 
little  tour  in  the  provinces ;  it  seems  to  me  that  a  first 
prize-man  of  the  Conservatoire  has  a  chance  of  earning 
a  little  money  everywhere ;  if  it  should  only  pay  our 
expenses,  it  would  be  quite  sufficient." 

"  And  then  it  will  permit  us  to  see  the  country," 
urged  Victor,  with  the  earnest  air  that  he  always 
assumed  every  time  he  expressed  his  brother's  thoughts; 
he  was  less  bold  in  announcing  his  own. 

"  Wisely  considered  !  "  said  Monsieur  Roussof,  "  and 
well;  in  what  direction  will  you  go?" 

Demiane  blushed  ;  he  had  not  yet  studied  diplomacy. 

"They  say,"  he  replied,  "that  along  the  Volga,  one 


M  A  R  K  O  P  . 


finds  a  great  many  eities  where  music  is  held  in  great 
honor ;  I  would  like  to  begin  at  Xijni.v 

44  Well,  and  how  far  will  you  go?  " 

"As  far  as  the  earth  will  take  us!"  said  Victor 
joyfully. 

44  Go,  then  !  that  is  very  well." 

Monsieur  Roussofs  scrutinizing  look  embarrassed 
D£miane;  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  protector  must 
know  the  reason  of  his  preference  for  the  Volga.  Was 
not  that  river  the  natural  way  to  the  Caucasus  ?  was  it 
not  permitted  to  hope  that  from  port  to  port,  he  would 
reach  Bakoun,  and  from  thence  Piatigorsk,  without  any 
one's  being  able  to  suspect  what  urged  him  to  the 
mountains  ?  For  a  moment  our  friend  felt  sure  that 
Monsieur  Roussof  had  divined  something,  for  he  smiled 
I  as  he  said  to  him  : 

44  Do  you  go  alone  ?  " 

44  We  two  !  "  replied  Victor,  who  was  surprised. 

44  Of  course.  And  who  is  going  to  accompany  Dtfnri- 
|ane  on  the  piano?" 

44  We  will  leave  that  to  Providence ! "  answered 
IDemiane,  who  was  relieved  from  a  groat  weight,  on 
seeing  that  his  machiavellism  had  not  been  transparent. 
|"  One  can  find  accompanists  everywhere." 

44  Bad  and  good  ones,"  said  Monsieur  Roussof.  "  Do 
ou  not  take  any  one  with  you?  A  skillful  song>v 

clever  pianist?     Generally  artists  travel  in  a  troupe." 

44  We  have  no  friends,"  said  Demiane,  indiflVivutly  ; 
"we  are  Bohemians,  free  under  the  heavens,  without 
my  shackles,  and  without  any  obligations  to  any  one 
>ut  ourselves  —  and  yourself,"  added  he,  bowing  to 


230  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

Monsieur  Roussof.  "  Before  leaving,  sir,  I  have  brought 
you  back  the  fifty  roubles,  which  enabled  us,  three 
years  ago,  to  come  to  Moscow,  and  to  reach  the  position 
I  have  now  attained.  I  owe  my  fortune  to  you,  I  will 
remember  it,  Monsieur  Roussof,  and  I  shall  never  be 
quits  with  you." 

He  laid  the  bank-bill  on  the  table  with  a  slight 
trembling,  which  he  could  not  master,  and  his  eyes 
sought  those  of  the  good  man. 

"  Do  you  insist  on  returning  this  money  to  me  ?  You 
do  not  wish  to  have  any  benefactors  ?  "  said  the  latter, 
smiling. 

"  It  is  not  that,  sir ;  gratitude  is  sweet  to  me,  but  I 
told  you  I  would  pay  it  back,  and  my  word  is  as  good 
as  my  bond." 

"  You  told  me  that  also,  my  friend,  I  remember  it ; 
very  well,  you  are  an  honest  fellow.  And  your  money, 
are  you  going  to  take  it  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  have  a  thousand  roubles  left,  which  I  would 
like  to  ask  you  to  keep,  sir.  I  am  afraid  I  should  not 
stop  spending  them  in  time,  if  I  took  them  away  with 
me,  and  I  would  like  to  find  them  on  my  return  — " 

"I  ask  nothing  better  than  to  be  your  banker. 
Here,  or  at  Gradovka,  you  will  always  find  me  ready 
for  any  demand." 

The  two  brothers  took  leave  of  their  friend.  When 
they  left  him,  Monsieur  Roussof  pointed  with  his  finger 
in  the  direction  of  the  door : 

"  A  knight,  but  a  man  of  business  —  there  is  in  you, 
my  friend  Demiane,  a  curious  mixture  of  the  hidalgo 
and  the  book  -  keeper  —  which  will  prevail  in  you  ? 


M  A  RKO  F. 


231 


Will  there  be  a  struggle,  or  will  the  two  elements  lead 
you  gently  to  the  grave,  without  leaving  you?  He  is 
running  after  a  petticoat,  that  is  written  on  his  face. 
I  would  like  to  know  if  he  will  end  by  catching  it?" 

In  truth,  Ddmiane  had  run  a  great  deal,  not  after  a 
single  petticoat,  but  after  the  starched  and  lace-trimmed 
collection  of  the  Princess'  petticoats,  which  were  wrap- 
ped in  silk -paper,  and  laid  at  their  full  length  in 
enormous  trunks,  that  kind  of  trunks  which  the  Trou- 
ville  railway  unwisely  refuses  to  accept  as  luggage, 
because  they  cannot  go  in  the  railway  wagons.  He 
learned  that  those  fortunate  petticoats  were  going  very 
slowly  by  water,  —  which  is  not  a  hurried  mode  of 
transit  —  to  rejoin  their  mistress  at  Astrakhan,  from 
there  to  Bakoun,  from  there  to  Tiflis,  and  from  Tiflis 
to  Piatigorsk,  which  place  one  can  reach  by  land, 
which  is  the  most  speedy  way  of  travelling. 

The  Princess  left  Moscow  the  morning  of  the  very 
day  on  which  Demiane  had  announced  his  plan  to 
Monsieur  Roussof,  and  accompanied  by  her  husband, 
in  a  berlin,  by  her  maid  and  by  a  second  maid.  A 
third,  who  was  especially  attached  to  the  service  of  her 
petticoats,  followed  them  on  their  navigation  of  the 
Volga  with  two  valets-de-pied,  the  Prince's  first  valet-de- 
chambre,  and  the  Prince's  second  valet-de-chambre,  who, 
to  speak  the  truth,  waited  chiefly  on  the  first  one ; 
by  Pouf,  the  Prince's  King  Charles,  by  Frisette,  tho 
Prince's  grey-hound,  with  a  woman  attached  to  their 
service.  The  cook  with  his  two  aids,  the  major-domo 
with  his  secretary,  whose  duty  was  to  write  the  bills-of- 
fare  on  a  plain,  pale-green  bristol  card  intended  for  the 


232  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

Princess'  use,  had  left  under  another  convoy,  and  as  to 
the  rest  of  the  servants,  they  hoped  to  find  all  that 
might  be  wanting  where  they  were  going. 

Draped,  not  in  a  wall-colored  mantle,  but  in  a  pretty 
sand-tinted  gray  overcoat,  which  was  then  the  fashion, 
D£miane  saw  all  the  carriages  leave ;  he  had  not  per- 
ceived the  Princess,  not  knowing  where  to  look  for  her, 
in  that  Babel  of  equipages  and  horses,  but  she  had  seen 
him  very  plainly,  and  had  taken  great  care  not  to  let 
him  suspect  it. 

When  the  autumn  comes,  when  the  moment  has 
arrived  for  stripping  the  orchards  for  fear  the  rains  and 
the  first  frosts  may  spoil  the  most  beautiful  fruit,  care- 
ful amateurs  do  not  trust  any  one  with  the  task  OL 
picking  the  finest  pears  from  their  favorite  trees.  Some 
are  good  to  be  eaten  at  once,  others  will  be  ripe  in  a 
week's  time,  others  again  will  only  reveal  their  flavor 
at  the  New  Year ;  the  connoisseur  finds  one,  the  most 
beautiful  of  all,  smells  it,  turns  it  around  and  says  to 
himself :  This  one  can  wait ;  it  will  only  gain  by  pass- 
ing the  winter  on  a  shelf  in  the  fruit  closet ;  in  March 
it  will  hardly  have  reached  the  degree  of  maturity 
necessary  to  give  it  perfect  flavor  and  perfect  fragrance. 
After  having  assured  herself  that  he  would  not  fail  her, 
and  being  certain  of  holding  him  by  a  solid  thread,  the 
Princess  had  put  Demiane  on  the  highest  shelf  of  her 
fruit  closet. 

The  imprudent  fellow  did  not  suspect  that  by  pursu- 
ing his  fairy,  he  ran  the  risk  of  breaking  the  pretty  net- 
work of  the  virgin's  threads  with  which  fairies  love  to 
surround  themselves;  the  magician  herself  had  not 


M  A  K  K  O  F  . 

breseen  so  admirable  and  especially  so  wandering  a 
seal.  Fortunately  she  knew  nothing  about  it,  and  the 
jvil  that  one  is  ignorant  of  does  not  "exist,  at  least,  so 
ong  as  one  is  ignorant  of  it.  Ddmiane,  moreover,  had 
10  very  decided  purpose  in  his  mind,  in  starting  thus  in 
»earch  of  the  Princess.  He  vaguely  felt  an  encourage- 
nent  in  the  indication  she  had  given  him  about  Piati- 
*orsk ;  he  said  to  himself  that  she  would  not  so  clearly 
lave  pointed  out  that  place  if  she  had  not  thought  that 
le  might  join  her  there ;  but  the  Caucasus  was  very  far 
iway,  and  the  bathing  season  very  short.  What  did 
hat  matter?  De*miane  was  young,  ambitious  and 
mpatient,  and  he  would  be  better  off  no  matter  where 
;han  at  Moscow  to  await  what  destiny  promised  him. 


234  MARKOF. 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

JAROSLAV. 

fT^HE  view  of  Jaroslav  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
I  in  Russia  when  not  seen  from  the  land  route  — 
from  that  side  it  resembles  an  infinite  number  of  others 
— but  from  the  Volga,  with  its  high  crenated  ram- 
parts, its  churches  with  gilded  cupolas,  and  with  its 
verdant  cliffs  that  extend  above  the  city,  it  is  difficult 
at  first  sight  to  imagine  any  place  brighter  or  more 
peculiar. 

"  They  ought  to  love  music  here  !  "  exclaimed  De*mi- 
ane,  who,  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival  was  standing  on 
the  rampart  heights,  gazing  at  the  river,  which  wasj 
covered  with  white  and  red  sails,  and  enlivened  byj 
ferry-boats  which  transported  from  one  bank  to  thej 
other  animals,  carriages,  carts,  and  even  simple  pedes- 
trians.     Groups   of  peasant  women,  the  young  ones 
wearing  on  their  heads  the  kakochnik  made  of  materials  I 
covered  with  gilt   spangles,    the  old  ones  with  their \ 
heads  wrapped  in  linen  cloths,  like  the  Holy  Women  ml 
Italian  pictures  ;  children  wearing  light-colored  shirts ;! 
men  standing   proudly  erect  with  their  legs  encased' 
in  felt,  which  was  bound  around  them  by  cords  made! 
of  bark,  and  who  wore  antique  red  felt  caps  on  theirl 
chestnut  curls,  grouped  themselves  on  the  square  ferry-I 
boats,  which  were  pushed  along  by  robust   boatmen, 
who  sometimes  used  a  pole,  and  sometimes  oars.    They 


M  A  R  K  O  F. 


235 


exchanged  calls  and  rallying  cries  together,  the  horses 
leighed  scraping  the  sonorous  boards  with  their  hoofs, 
sheep  baa-ed,  pressing  with  fright  close  to  each 
)ther,  and  over  all  the  beautiful  seven  o'clock  sun 
threw  its  golden  red  rays  in  torrents,  which  gave  in  the 
listance,  to  the  long  pieces  of  fine  linen  which  were 
spread  out  to  bleach  in  the  meadows,  the  appearance  of 
)riflambs  lighted  up  by  the  gleam  of  battles. 

"  It  is  a  rich  country,"  replied  Victor,  who  was  less 
enthusiastic  and  more  positive.  "  Life  looks  as  though 
|it  were  easy  here  and  money  does  not  seem  to  be  scarce." 
In  truth,  in  all  the  traktirs,  in  all  the  inns,  could  be 
leard  songs  and  laughter:  a  troup  of  Tziganes  were 
[sounding  their  tambourines  in  the  large  hall  of  the 
principal  hotel,  and  every  one  seemed  to  take  pleasure 
in  listening  to  their  refrains  and  odd  melodies.  In  a 
drinking-shop,  two  handsome  fellows  from  the  banks  of 
the  Volga  were  dancing  a  wild  trepaka,  striking  the  earth 
I  with  their  heels,  leaping  and  jumping,  then  continuing 
to  dance  almost  on  a  level  with  the  ground,  with  their 
legs  bent  under  them,  in  a  position  which  defied  all  the 
laws  of  equilibrium. 

"What  a  pity,"  said  D^miane  smiling,  "that  my 
new  dignity  prevents  my  doing  as  they  do !  It  seems 
to  me  that  I  could  dance  for  an  hour  at  least  with 
pleasure." 

"In  so  joyous  a  city,  there  must  be  always  a  ball 
somewhere,"  suggested  Victor. 

"Ah!  my  friend,  the  fine  G-eselhchaft  days  arc  over  ! 
A  prizeman  of  the  Conservatoire  should  show  himself 
only  in  a  dress-coat  and  white  gloves !  " 


236  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

They  went  to  bed  without  dancing,  but  not  without 
music,  for,  leaning  on  the  terrace  that  crowns  the  proud 
girdle  of  ramparts,  which  are  useless  at  the  present 
time,  they  listened  far  into  the  warm,  pale  night  to  the 
chorus  of  boatmen  who  descended  the  stream,  letting 
themselves  be  cradled  by  the  old  four-part  songs  for 
male  voices,  whose  origin  is  unknown  and  which  make 
one  think  of  the  land  of  dreams. 

The  next  day  the  two  brothers  made  their  official 
visits,  and  learned  that  nothing  was  easier  than  to  give 
a  concert ;  at  Jaroslav  every  one  was  bent  on  amusing 
himself.  A  concert  is  not  more  tiresome  than  anything 
else,  especially  if  it  be  taken  as  a  pretext  for  displaying 
a  pretty  toilette,  or  for  staying  away  from  one's  busi- 
ness office.  One  difficulty  arose ;  the  usual  accompanist 
at  concerts  was  in  bed,  very  ill,  and  he  would  not  be  in 
a  fit  state  to  present  himself  to  the  public  for  a  month, 
should  that  happiness  ever  be  granted  him  again  in  this 
world. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him,  the  poor  devil  ? " 
Demiane  asked  a  young  music-loving  scribe  who  con- 
fided this  to  him  in  a  room  in  the  Town  Hall. 

The  other  raised  his  arm  towards  Heaven,  and  car- 
ried his  half-closed  hand  to  his  lips.  In  all  spoken 
languages  or  in  pantomime  this  gesture  has  the  same 
signification. 

"  He  drinks  ?     That  does  not  make  one  ill  a  month !  " 

"  He  has  been  drinking,"  replied  the  young  man ; 
"  to  speak  the  truth,  he  is  at  the  hospital  with  delirium 
tremens,  but  don't  go  and  tell  that  in  other  cities." 

"Never  fear,"  replied  Demiane,  "I  will  be  dumb, 


MARK  OF.  237 

especially  because  I  do  not  believe  that  Jaroslav  enjoys 
supremacy  in  that  kind  of  thing;  there  must  be  musi- 
cians everywhere  who  love  to  crook  their  elbows.  But 
tell  me,  what  do  they  do  when  this  interesting  fellow  is 
at  the  hospital,  and  they  wish  to  give  a  concert  ?  " 

"  They  are  very  much  embarrassed  !  The  ladies  of 
the  city  show  great  willingness  regarding  it ;  several 
among  them  are  very  good  musicians,  and  kindly  accom- 
pany amateurs,  but  for  a  stranger " 

"  I  will  be  presented !  "  said  Ddmiane,  who  was  dis- 
couraged at  nothing.  "  We  are  well  brought  up,  and 
then  I  have  some  letters  of  introduction." 

They  examined  the  letters.  One  of  them  gave  them 
access  to  a  gouty  General,  who  played  the  clarionette 
to  perfection.  His  wife  was  coquettish  and  grumbling, 
tvhich  is  not  so  rare  as  one  might  suppose ;  her  daugh- 
ter was  ugly,  and  still  more  coquettish,  but  less 
grumbling. 

"  That  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  said  our  friend ;  "  I 
have  not  come  here  to  get  married  or  to  make  a  collec- 
tion of  inflamed  hearts.  Can  I  find  through  these  per- 
sons some  one  to  accompany  me  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  friend  of  the  daughter  who  does  not 
play  badly ;  she  accompanies  very  well  indeed,  but  she 
has  never  played  in  public  ;  I  do  not  know  whether 
she  would  be  willing  to  risk  it." 

"  Bah ! "  said  Ddmiane,  "  with  a  man  who  lias 
received  a  first  prize  for  the  violin  !  " 

They  went  to  the  gouty  General's,  who  was  delighted 
to  see  a  musician  of  merit  who  was  patented  by  the 
Conservatoire. 


238  MAKKOF. 

"  We  will  play  my  duo  for  the  clarionette  and  vio- 
lin," said  lie  ;  "  I  rarely  find  an  occasion  for  doing  so. 
The  gentlemen  of  this  city  think  it  too  difficult,  and  I 
will  get  you  an  audience  that  will  be  as  large  as  it  will 
be  amiable,  all  my  wife's  daughters'  friends  —  and  all 
the  ladies  of  the  city  are  their  friends  —  eh,  Penguin  !  " 

Penguin  appeared  in  the  shape  of  an  old  man  with 
gray  hair,  who  was  thick-set  and  grum-looking,  clad  in 
mouse-colored  gray,  and  who  had  moustaches  besmeared 
with  tobacco,  and  who  carried  one  arm  behind  his  back ; 
the  other  hung  at  his  side,  and  both  were  so  short  that 
they  scarcely  reached  his  pockets. 

"  You  see  what  short  arms  he  has,"  said  the  General, 
"that  is  why  I  call  him  Penguin." 

"  Penguin !  go  and  tell  Madame  la  Generale  that  we 
have  a  first-prize  man  of  the  violin  from  Moscow  here 
for  a  concert;  tell  her  to  come  immediately." 

The  person  thus  directed  grumbled  a  sort  of  assent 
and  disappeared.  They  heard  from  behind  the  door  a 
prolonged  sound  of  altercation,  in  which  Penguin's 
hoarse  voice  returned  like  a  theme  in  a  sonata  with 
these  words :  "  The  General  commands  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  disturbs  your  wife  ? "  said  De*miane, 
politely. 

The  music-loving  functionary,  whose  calmness  was 
disturbed  by  nothing,  waved  his  hand  to  indicate  that 
that  was  not  of  the  slightest  importance. 

"  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  it,"  said  the  General, 
"  she  always  acts  like  that." 

Victor  thought  that  with  such  a  home  the  General 
was  doubly  unhappy  in  having  the  gout ;  but  just  as  he 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  239 


was  giving  his  brother  an  expressive  glance,  la 
ci-'il''  appeared,  wearing  a  cap  trimmed  with  straw- 
colored.  ribbons  and  a  brooch  in  triptych-form  repre- 
senting her  husband,  her  daughter  and  her  son,  who 
was  at  that  time  serving  under  the  flag;  these  last  two 
represented  as  very  young  and  with  crooked 
months;  but  the  painter  was  alone  to  blame  for  this 
defect,  which  exposed  the  poor  children  to  unkind 
remarks  from  those  who  had  never  seen  them. 

On  perceiving  Victor,  Madame  la  Gdndrale's  grum- 
bling nature  caused  her  to  make  a  slight  grimace;  but 
the  sight  of  -Demiane  stimulated  the  coquettish  element, 
and  the  grimace  resolved  into  a  smile  which  did  not 
gain  much  in  the  transformation. 

••What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  These  gentlemen  wish  to  give  us  a  concert  ;  Ver- 
lomine  sent  them  to  me  —  " 

"  I  was  not  sent,"  said  Victor,  who  was  always 
honest  and  scrupulous. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  continued  the  General  ; 
"  I  will  play  my  duet."  La  Gem'rale  visibly  shrugged 
her  shoulders;  —  "  Madame  Bradof  might  sing  a  song, 
and  Vilsky  another,  or  else  both  of  them  together  a 
duet.  But  who  will  accompany  them?  Could  not 
Mavroucha?" 

"  Mavroucha,"  affirmed  Madame  la  Gcncrale,  "can- 
not pass  the  most  of  her  time  in  practising  with  young 
men!" 

Her  true  mother's  eye.  looked  with  firmness  on  the 
music-loving  functionary;  with  disdain  on  Victor,  and 
with  admiration  tempered  with  severity  on  Demiane. 


240  MARKOP. 

«  Well,  little  HelSne?" 

44  Little  Hdlene,  that  is  another  thing  !  Her  mother 
brings  her  up  so  badly !  They  let  her  talk  to  every 
one ! " 

44  Madame  —  the  mother  of  —  the  mother  of  that 
young  lady,  will  she  consent  ?  "  asked  De*miane,  very 
much  embarrassed  to  know  how  to  properly  designate 
little  Heldne's  mamma. 

44  Oh  !  that  person  always  consents  !  "  said  Madame 
la  Ge'ne'rale,  shrugging  her  shoulders  more  than  ever, 
which  made  the  triptych  dance  on  her  neck. 

Victor  instantly  formed  a  bad  opinion .  of  little  Hdl- 
ene's  mamma;  but  he  was  a  severe  moralist,  and 
Demiane  saw  nothing  wrong  in  it. 

44  When  can  one  see  her  ?  "  said  he. 

44  Monsieur  will  take  you  there,"  said  la  Ge'ne'rale, 
pointing  to  the  functionary  with  her  chin. 

44  You  will  come  and  tell  me  what  you  have  decided 
upon,  will  you  not?"  cried  the  General,  just  as  the 
young  men  had  stepped  over  the  threshold  of  the  door. 
44  You  ought  to  have  asked  them  to  take  some  tea,"  said 
he  to  his  wife  when  they  were  alone. 

44  People  whom  we  do  not  know !  "  she  replied  dis- 
dainfully. 

44  But  if  Verlomine  sends  them  here  —  " 

44  You  do  not  know,  General,  what  it  is  to  watch 
over  a  young  girl,"  said  la  Gene'rale.  44  When  we  have 
seen  what  they  are,  we  will  invite  them  perhaps." 

44 Yes,"  murmured  the  General,  "when  they  will 
have  gone." 


MARK  OF.  241 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 

LITTLE    HELEN  E'S     MAMMA. 

T  ITTLE  HELENE'S  mamma  lived  at  the  very  end 
JLJ  of  the  city,  almost  in  the  suburbs;  her  house, 
which  was  built  of  wood,  was  vast  and  barren  looking, 
and  was  supported  on  badly  cracked  columns,  which 
were  painted  yellow,  with  crowns  of  laurel-leaves  white, 
after  the  style  of  the  First  Empire.  It  was  an  ugly 
house,  indisputably,  but  a  dwelling  that  possessed  a 
very  noble  appearance.  A  rather  large  garden,  that 
was  full  of  old  linden-trees,  extended  as  far  as  the  cliffs, 
and  overlooked  the  Volga  and  the  gardens  of  the  ram- 
parts. The  visitors  ran  up  the  steps,  and  a  servant 
maid,  who  was  merry  and  fresh  looking,  but  who  was 
singularly  attired,  came  to  open  the  door  for  them ;  she 
was  barefooted  and  laughed  in  their  faces. 

"We  are  washing,"  said  she,  "it  is  a  fancy  of 
Madame's.  On  awakening  from  her  siesta,  an  hour 
ago,  she  said  that  she  had  dreamed  we  were  washing 
the  floors.  This  way,  gentlemen;  don't  wet  your  feet. 
Jump  a  little  over  here,  and  you  will  find  yourselves  in 
the  dining-room,  which  is  dry." 

Upon  this  singular  advice,  the  three  young  men 
jumped  one  after  the  other,  over  a  pool  of  soap-suds, 
which  was  already  very  black,  and  found  themselves  in 
I  the  dining-room,  which  was  dry. 

Madame  was  not  very  wrong  in  having  the  floors 
15 


242  MARKOF. 

washed,  to  judge  by  the  one  in  the  dining-room,  which 
could  not  have  seen  a  brush  since  the  preceding  Christ- 
mas. Our  friends  looked  at  each  other  smiling,  then 
the  functionary  said  in  a  low  voice  with  an  indulgem 
tone: 

"An  odd  house,  but  good  music."  A  light  step 
was  heard,  then  some  one  jumped  over  the  pool  o: 
soap-sups,  and  little  Helene  found  herself  in  the 
room. 

"Mamma  is  coming,"  said  she  in  a  sweet  voice 
without  seeming  troubled  by  her  peculiar  exercise 
Her  starched  petticoat,  which  had  yet  only  half  de 
scended  to  its  place,  disclosed  two  pretty  little  feet  tha 
were  shod  in  common  slippers.  She  had  a  blue  ribbon 
in  her  chestnut-colored  hair,  and  wore  a  white  muslin 
dress  with  small  black  spots  which  was  not  very 
clean.  Her  features  were  small,  and  too  delicate  to 
be  yet  well  formed,  and  her  thin  and  youthful  arms 
her  small  red  hands,  her  large  brown  eyes  which  were 
a  little  sad,  and  all  her  person  seemed  resigned  to 
some  proximate  calamity,  and  it  was  evidently  impos 
sible  to  give  her  any  other  name  than  that  of  "  littlt 
Helene." 

"  It  is  with  you  that  these  gentlemen  have  business,' 
said  the  music-lover,  with  a  graceful  gesture  of  his  arm 
towards  the  two  brothers. 

"  With  me  ? "  said  the  young  girl,  looking  first  at 
Demiane  and  then  at  Victor,  and  then  finally  at  De'mi- 
ane  who  was  the  handsomer  of  the  two. 

"  Yes,  Mademoiselle,"  replied  the  latter,  going  straighl 
to  the  point.  "  I  wish  to  give  a  concert,  and  they  assure 


M  A  R  K  O  F 


243 


me  that  I  shall  have  an  audience,  but  there  is  no  accom- 
panist." 

"  I  know,  he  is  at  the  Hospital,"  said  little  Hdldne, 
shaking  her  head  compassionately. 

"Precisely,  and  if  you  would  be  kind  enough  to 
accompany  me,  and  the  other  artists  as  well,  you  would 
save  us  a  great  deal  of  trouble." 

•Helene  looked  alternately  at  the  three  men,  and 
her  cheeks  grew  crimson,  then  pale,  then  crimson 
again. 

"A  large  concert?"  she  asked. 

"  I  hope  so !  "  said  Ddmiane,  proudly. 

"  I  should  not  dare  to  do  so,"  Hdlene  replied,  in  a 
resigned  tone  of  voice  and  casting  down  her  eyes. 

Nothing  is   easier.     You   have  already  played  in 
public?" 

"  Yes,  but  there  were  not  a  great  many  persons 
|present." 

"  More  or  less,  it  makes  no  difference ;  the  essential 
[thing  is  to  be  able  to  play  in  time  in  the  presence  of 
strangers.     You  have  talent  they  tell  me !  " 

The  young  girl  blushed  and  looked  at  a  black  spot 
rhich  was  conspicuous  on  the  front  of  her  skirt. 

"  I  play  the  piano  as  well  as  I  can,"  said  she. 

"That's  perfect.  I  will  send  you  the  music,  and 
rou  can  practice  it  to-morrow;  and  we  can  play  it 

Aether  once   a  day  after  to-morrow,  a  second  time 

Friday  or  Saturday,  and  we  will  give  the  concert  on 
iunday." 

Helene  did  not  seem  disturbed  at  so  short  a  notice, 
)ut  let  her  eyes  wander  around  the  room. 


244  MARK  OF. 

"  I  have  no  dress  ready,"  she  murmured,  looking 
embarrassed ;  "  my  white  dress  is  not  clean " 

"  We  will  wash  it  for  you,  Mademoiselle,"  cried  the 
delighted  maid,  who  appeared  at  that  moment  on  her 
hands  and  knees  in  the  soap  suds,  at  the  threshold  of 
the  door,  with  a  brush  in  her  hand  and  her  hair  in  her 
eyes.  "  We  will  wash  it  very  clean !  We  are  not  afraid 
of  a  little  soap ! " 

The  dishevelled  head  disappeared  and  the  brush  was 
rubbed  over  the  floor  frantically. 

"Will  your  Mamma  make  no  objection?"  De*miane 
asked  politely. 

"  Oh !  no !  she  likes  to  have  me  play  the  piano  before 
people.  She  wishes  me  to  be  an  artist." 

"  If  you  can  assure  me  of  her  consent,"  said  Demiane, 
rising. 

"  Wait,  I  will  go  and  speak  to  her  about  it,"  said 
Hdlene,  quickly. 

She  went  to  the  door,  jumping  over  the  pool  of  water 
and  the  servant  so  lightly  that  no  one  could  tell  how 
she  did  it.  While  the  three  visitors  looked  at  each 
other  smiling,  they  heard  a  heavy  footstep  on  the 
floor. 

"  You  are  insane,"  said  a  sleepy  voice,  "  to  scatter  all 
your  water  into  the  corridor." 

"Eh!  Madame,  where  would  you  have  me  put  it?" 
replied  the  maid,  who  stopped  scrubbing. 

"And  you,  where  would  you  have  me  pass?"  replied j 
the  same  voice,  with  more  vivacity. 

"  Do  as  Mademoiselle  did,"  said  the  stout  girl,  laugh- 1 
ing,  "  jump !  The  gentlemen  jumped  too ! " 


MARK  OF.  245 

"  Stupid !  "  said  the  voice.  "  Wipe  that  up  immedi- 
ately." 

"  The  servant-maid's  red  hand  appeared  with  a  towel, 
and  suddenly  streams  of  water  poured  into  the  room, 
even  under  the  visitor's  chairs,  but  no  one  paid  atten- 
tion to  them;  little  Helene's  Mamma  entered  and 
bowed  with  rather  a  haughty  nod  to  the  three  men, 
who  had  arisen.  Her  daughter  slipped  in  behind  her 
and  remained  standing. 

"You  wish  my  daughter  to  accompany  you?"  said 
she  to  Demiane.  "  Good-morning,  Monsieur  Mozine," 
she  added  in  an  aside  to  the  functionary. 

"  If  it  is  not  impossible,  Madame,"  replied  the  artist, 
calling  to  his  aid  all  his  newly  acquired  knowledge  of  a 
man  of  the  world. 

"  Oh !  it  is  very  easy,  only  she  has  no  dress." 

"  Have  we  not  told  you,  Madame,  that  we  will  wash 
and  iron  it ! "  said  the  servant-maid  putting  her  head  in 
at  the  door,  only  this  time  it  was  erect. 

"  Then  it  is  all  right.     Do  you  play  the  violin  ?  " 

"  I  received  the  first  prize  of  the  Conservatoire  of 
Moscow,"  said  De'miane,  very  modestly. 

"H61ene  blushed  and  seemed  disturbed.  She  had 
I  never  played  with  a  prize-man  from  the  Conservatoire. 
Her  mother  smiled  with  delight. 

"Prepare  yourself  well,  little  one,"  said  she,  "you 
| will  practise  together  in  the  concert-room." 

"  Oh !  no,  mamma,"  said  Helene,  timidly,  "  not  the 
Ifirst  time." 

"Well,  here,  then?  It  is  arranged  for  day  aftei 
I  to-morrow." 


246  MAKKOF. 

The  young  men  rose  and  found  themselves  in  the 
street  without  being  obliged  to  jump  any  more;  the 
stout  servant  had  removed  all  obstacles. 

"Is  she  not  droll?"  said  Mozine,  when  they  had 
taken  a  few  steps. 

"The  mamma?" 

"No,  the  daughter." 

"  I  do  not  know,  I  did  not  notice  her  particularly." 

"  She  resembles  Madame  Moutine,"  said  Victor,  in  a 
low  voice,  "but  her  dress  was  very  dirty." 

"  The  house  is  so,"  replied  the  music-lover,  philoso- 
phically. 


: 


MAKKOF.  247 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

TEA     AT     LITTLE     HELENE's. 

daylight,  entering  in  great  floods  through  the 
four  large  windows  of  the  drawing-room,  of  the 
house  with  columns,  fell  disagreeably  on  the  walls  which 
were  ornamented  with  very  ugly  grey  paper,  which  was 
covered  with  yellow-colored  designs,  of  that  kind  which 
would  be  vainly  sought  after,  except  in  the  extreme 
corner  of  some  very  remote  province.  Four  large, 
rounded  windows  were  certainly  a  large  number  for 
lighting  a  single  room,  but  when  not  the  smallest  little 
curtain,  not  the  least  glimpse  of  verdure,  was  added  to 
these  enormous  bay-windows,  when  the  broad  daylight 
was  in  addition  reflected  on  a  shining,  polished  floor, 
and  in  a  mirror  that  made  one's  nose  appear  crooked, 
one  was  in  a  certain  way  excusable  for  experiencing 
sensations  on  looking  in  the  glass,  very  like  those  of  a 
sick  headache. 

Demiane  laid  down  his  bow,  wiped  his  brow  and 
said  to  little  Helene  : 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  too  light  here?" 

Helene  blushed  and  nervously  fingered  the  music- 
book  which  was  placed  on  the  piano-rack. 

"They  are  washing  the  blinds,"  said  she,  embar- 
rassed ;  "  they  were  dirty  — " 

Demiane  thought  that  they  washed  a  great  deal  in 
that  house,  which  did  not  seem,  nevertheless,  any 
the  cleaner  for  it. 


248  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  You  can  have  a  screen,"  said  "Helene,  leaving  her 
piano-stool  with  the  sprightliness  of  a  sylph.  Before 
De'miane  had  time  to  open  his  mouth,  she  disappeared. 
He  wiped  his  forehead  again  and  looked  around  him. 

What  traveller  in  Russia  is  not  familiar  with  the 
immense  room  in  which  a  few  cane-seated  chairs  placed 
along  the  walls,  look  at  each  other  sadly  from  enormous 
panels  which  are  framed  in  frightfully  massive  mahog- 
any, supported  by  consoles  which  are  as  heavy  as  the 
stones  of  a  fortress,  these  same  consoles  being  upheld 
by  chiseled  feet,  which  make  one  think  of  those  of  the 
elephants  which  bear  the  ruined  palaces  of  Angpor? 
The  mirrors  have  a  greenish  hue,  but  are  frequently 
beveled,  though  interminably  long ;  and  one  is  scarcely 
tempted  to  look  at  oneself  in  them,  for  they  improve 
one  but  little,  or  even  not  at  all.  A  chandelier  in  gilt 
bronze,  in  the  style  of  the  First  Empire,  hangs  from  the 
ceiling,  draped  in  gauze  which  has  once  been  white — if 
the  house  is  well-cared  for — which  gives  one  the  advan- 
tage at  least,  of  not  being  able  to  see  it,  but  which  is 
quite  bare,  and  made  very  dirty  by  flies,  if  the  house  is 
neglected ;  the  one  belonging  to  Heldne's  mamma  was 
uncovered  and  not  at  all  handsome.  A  large  piano, 
which  is  frequently  new,  and  always  d  queue,  fortu? 
nately  takes  up  a  great  deal  of  space  in  the  vast 
desert,  and  when  the  house  is  a  well-ordered  one,  some 
ottomans  covered  with  yellow  damask,  may  a]so  be 
found  in  it.  There  are  white  muslin  curtains  which 
ornament  the  windows,  and  are  hung  on  repoussS 
gilded  rods,  and  the  windows  are  generally  furnished 
besides  with  white  blinds,  and  with  plants  of  rich 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 


249 


)liage  ;  the  whole  presenting  an  aspect,  if  not  hos- 
pitable, at  least  quite  dignified.  This  is  the  principal 
drawing-room,  that  is  to  say :  the  ball-room. 

The  drawing-room  of  the  housa  with  columns,  pos- 
sessed of  these  adornments  only  those  which  were 
absolutely  necessary,  and  besides  the  blinds  were  being 
washed,  as  Helene  had  said ;  but  after  all  what  was  the 
use  of  such  vain  ornaments?  would  the  music  be  any 
the  better  for  them  ?  The  piano  at  least  was  excellent, 
but  it  was  the  only  piece  of  modern  furniture  which 
the  large  house  contained. 

While  De*miane  was  winking  his  eyes  to  escape  the 
dazzle  of  the  polished  floor,  Helene  returned,  followed 
by  the  jovial  servant,  who  carried  in  her  outstretched 
arms  a  light  screen,  made  of  small  black-painted  strips 
of  wood,  and  willow  ornaments,  the  whole  being  lined 
with  green  glazed  muslin.  This  cheap  piece  of  furni- 
ture is  to  be  found  in  all  Russian  dwellings,  most  fre- 
quently in  the  maid's  room  ;  but  this  one  belonged 
especially  to  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

"  Where  must  I  place  it  for  you  ?  "  asked  the  stout 
maid,  laughing.  She  always  laughed,  no  doubt,  from 
principle. 

"  Before  the  gentleman,  between  the  window  and  his 
rack." 

"That  is  an  idea!  A  screen  ought  to  be  placed 
behind  one's  back,  in  order  to  prevent  draughts,  but  no 
one  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  putting  a  screen  in 
front ! " 

"  Do  as  I  bid  you,"  insisted  Helene,  with  a  sad  tone, 
which  was  with  her  the  expression  of  severity. 


250  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

The  maid  obeyed,  then  drew  back  a  step  in  order  to 
enjoy  the  effect,  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  went  away. 

"  Let  us  begin  again,  will  you  ?  "  said  the  young 
man,  putting  his  violin  to  his  shoulder. 

Helene  answered  with  a  nod,  and  immediately  struck 
the  first  chord.  She  was  always  ready  —  never  kept 
any  one  waiting,  and  never  asked  for  anything.  She 
played  without  stopping,  almost  without  breathing,  the 
entire  allegro,  and  at  the  last  note  held  her  head  motion- 
less as  though  she  were  expecting  a  reproach. 

"  You  play  very  fast,"  said  Demiane,  laughing ;  "  I 
have  hard  work  to  follow  you." 

"Is  it  too  fast?"  said  Hele'ne,  turning  her  head  a 
little  toward  him  with  some  anxiety. 

"  Not  at  all !  But  I  am  not  used  to  being  so  well 
accompanied ! " 

"  You  are  in  jest !  "  said  the  young  girl,  slightly  turn- 
ing away.  All  her  movements  were  gentle,  and  exe- 
cuted with  a  sort  of  fear  of  making  some  noise,  or  01 
taking  another's  place.  She  seemed  to  contract  her 
little  person,  in  order  to  occupy  the  least  possible  space 
on  earth. 

"  I  am  not  jesting  at  all !  accompanists  are  detesta- 
ble, it  is  an  acknowledged  fact.  Ah  I  if  I  were  always 
accompanied  as  I  am  to-day,  I  would  revolutionize  the 
world ! " 

He  sighed  and  touched  a  string  of  his  violin.  "  The 
concert  will  be  very  fine,"  continued  he  an  instant  later. 
"  I  am  sure  I  shall  play  well." 

"  God  grant  it ! "  said  the  little  maid  in  a  low  tone, 
holding  her  breath. 


MARKOF.  251 

Demiane  raised  his  bow  and  they  began  the  andante 
with  wonderful  precision.  The  piano  and  violin  seemed 
to  sound  like  one  instrument,  so  truly  did  the  chords 
harmonize.  They  continued  thus,  both  of  them  being 
influenced  to  put  all  their  science,  all  their  feeling  into 
the  music,  which  from  a  duty  was  transformed  into  an 
exquisite  delight. 

De'miane  thought  of  nothing  but  his  art ;  elated 
by  the  new  satisfaction,  which  was  unknown  to  him  till 
then,  of  being  able  to  wholly  forget  the  piano  part,  he 
allowed  himself  to  play  with  an  accompaniment  as  he 
had  never  played  till  then,  except  for  himself;  the 
result  of  which  was  that  he  heard,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  the  music  he  performed  just  as  the  composer 
had  conceived  it.  The  public  is  unaware  that  except 
in  particularly  happy  circumstances  the  performer  only 
hears  his  own  part  well,  and  receives  of  the  combined 
execution  nothing  but  a  vague  impression.  All  the 
pleasure  is  for  the  listeners,  and  all  the  trouble  for  the 
artist ;  the  latter  is  never  really  satisfied  except  when 
he  plays  for  himself,  or  for  friends  whose  criticism  he 
does  not  fear. 

"  It  is  superb  !  "  said  the  young  man,  when  they 
finished;  I  have  certainly  played  that  sonata  a  hun- 
dred times,  and  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  heard 
it." 

"Why?"  asked  Helene,  whose  red  hands  were  rest- 
ing wearily  on  the  keys. 

"  Because  they  played  the  piano  part  like  a  tiresome 
duty,  and  you  have  executed  it  like  an  artist !  That's 
the  difference  !  And  with  your  little  hands  too  ?  How 
do  you  do  it?" 


252  MARKOF. 

He*lene  bowed  her  head  and  looked  at  her  hands ;  she 
found  them  very  red  and  not  very  clean.  The  hands 
disappeared  on  her  knees,  one  in  the  other. 

"  Do  not  hide  them !  They  are  brave  little  hands. 
Are  you  not  tired  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  never  tired." 

"  Then  the  second  piece  !  " 

The  music  began  again;  the  daylight  was  waning, 
for  the  sun  was  going  down  behind  the  neighboring 
forests,  and  outside  the  shadows  were  lengthening  in 
the  streets,  but  the  time  did  not  seem  long  to  the  vir- 
tuosi, who  were  working  with  an  ardor  that  would  be 
surprising  to  any  one  who  had  not  experienced  the 
same  feeling.  When  they  had  practised  everything, 
when  they  were  both  entirely  satisfied,  little  Helene's 
mamma  made  her  appearance  in  the  large  empty  room. 

"  Well !  "  said  she,  "  are  you  pleased,  Monsieur  Mar- 
kof?" 

"  Enchanted,  madame,  enchanted.  Your  daughter  is 
a  veritable  artist,  an  extraordinary  person;  I  have 
never  heard  any  one  accompany  as  she  does.  She  will 
be  a  great  artist,  I  assure  you  once  more." 

"  Do  you  hear,  little  HelSne  ?  " 

"Yes,  mamma,"  said  the  young  girl  lowering  her 
head  and  closing  the  music-book. 

"  You  will  take  a  little  something  with  us,  no  matter 
what  it  is,  will  you  not,  Monsieur  Markof?"  said  the 
mamma,  with  an  air  of  royal  favor.  "  You  must 
be  hungry." 

Demiane  was  hungry,  and  he  confessed  it  without 
shame ;  in  consequence  of  which  he  followed  the  lady 'a 


MARKOF.  253 

majestic  presence  into  a  room  which  was  almost  as  large 
as  the  drawing-room  and  quite  as  scantily  furnished. 
The  furniture  was  composed  of  eleven  straw  chairs,  — 
the  twelfth  had  a  leg  missing,  and  was  lying  in  a  corner 
with  its  three  other  legs  in  the  air,  —  with  a  walnut 
extension  table,  which  was  very  old,  and  so  warped 
that  its  supports  were  constantly  between  Heaven  and 
earth.  There  was  neither  buffet  nor  sideboard,  nor  any 
thing  in  the  world  that  could  make  one  suppose  that  a 
table  and  chairs  were  not  all  sufficient  for  furnishing  a 
dining-room.  We  Western  people,  who  have  a  passion 
for  encumbering  ourselves  with  nick-nacks,  cannot 
understand  such  primitive  simplicity,  but  it  did  not 
shock  Demiane,  especially  as  the  rickety  table  was  very 
well  garnished. 

"  Take  care,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  his  hostess  to  him, 
"  not  to  knock  the  table  as  you  sit  down,  you  might 
upset  the  samovar." 

Demiane  took  care,  and  as  one  might  expect,  knocked 
the  leg  of  the  table  and  put  the  samovar's  equilibrium 
in  danger ;  but  H&ene's  prudent  hand  had  foreseen  the 
accident  and  held  the  samovar  by  one  of  its  handles  so 
that  all  mishap  was  avoided. 

"  You  should  have  your  table  repaired,"  said  he  to 
the  lady,  laughing. 

"  Oh !  it  has  been  like  this  for  so  long  that  we  are 
accustomed  to  it." 

"  Do  you  never  upset  anything  ?  " 

"  Almost  every  day ;  but  we  are  accustomed  to  it." 

Since  such  accidents  had  become  so  charming  a 
custom  with  these  ladies,  Demiane  thought  it  would  be 


254  MARK  OF. 

indelicate  to  say  any  more  about  it,  and  he  gave  all  his 
attention  to  a  covered  dish  that  held  a  prominent  place 
in  the  centre. 

"  It  is  fish  from  the  Volga,  Monsieur  Markof,"  said 
the  lady  to  him,  following  his  glance ;  "  I  hope  you  will 
find  it  to  your  taste." 

Tea  and  fried  fish !  It  was  a  detestable  bill-of-fare ; 
however  Ddmiane  made  no  objection  to  it,  and  as  the 
repast  was  set  off  with  a  number  of  different  hors 
d'oevures,  he  found  it  excellent. 

While  he  was  enjoying  this  odd  repast  he  gave  a 
glance  at  his  hostess.  Little  Helene's  mamma  was  of 
no  particular  age,  that  is  to  say,  she  floated  between 
thirty-five  and  fifty-five  years.  Her  rather  evident 
embonpoint  was  not  a  sign  of  health,  for  her  com- 
plexion was  yellow  and  worn ;  her  blue  eyes  must  have 
been  very  handsome  once,  but  they  were  now  only 
wearied  and  less  dim  than  dark-circled.  Some  small 
wrinkles  around  her  mouth  contrasted  with  the  youth- 
fulness  of  her  brow  and  with  her  brown  hair,  which  was 
magnificent  and  heavy,  and  which  obliged  its  owner  to 
throw  her  head  slightly  back.  She  wore  a  skirt  of  light 
silk,  which  was  worn  and  tumbled,  but  which  had  a 
long  train,  and  over  it  a  small  jacket  of  very  light 
chamois-colored  cloth,  which  was  trimmed  with  silver- 
braid,  all  of  which  was  tarnished  and  spotted.  The 
expression  of  her  face  was  that  of  a  gentle  somnolence, 
which  was  barely  interrupted  by  the  necessary  duties 
in  regard  to  meals,  and  from  time  to  time  by  some 
sharp  remonstrance  addressed  to  a  clan  of  servants  whc 
appeared  one  after  the  other  to  remove  or  to  place  the 
dishes  on  the  table. 


A  R  K  O  F  . 


255 


"  Perhaps  you  would  prefer  coffee  ?  "  said  the  lady, 
when  Demiane  hud  swallowed  two  large  glasses  of  tea. 
"  Pacha,  Macha,  Glafera,  make  some  coffee,  quickly  !  " 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  exclaimed  Markof ;  "it  is  impos- 
sible, Madame,  I  beg  of  you  — " 

But  the  servants  had  rushed  towards  the  kitchen,  and 
the  sound  of  a  coffee-mill  was  already  to  be  heard ;  the 
lady  reassured  her  guest  with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  "  I 
am  very  fond  of  it,"  said  she,  "  but  it  does  not  agree 
with  me;  so  I  never  take  any  except  when  we  have 
people  here." 

"  If  it  is  to  do  you  a  service,"  said  Ddmiane,  who 
had  a  great  desire  to  laugh,  "  I  cannot  refuse  you." 

The  lady  smiled  and  placidly  crossed  her  dimpled 
hands  on  her  lap.  She  understood  jesting  very  well. 

"  When  will  you  practise  together  for  the  second 
time  ?  "  said  she  in  a  sweet  and  very  pleasant  voice. 

"  I  see  no  necessity  for  practising  again  together," 
replied  Demiane ;  "  it  sounds  as  well  as  it  possibly  can." 

Little  Hcl£ne  bestowed  on  the  young  artist  a  grateful 
look,  but  it  was  so  timid  and  fleeting  that  it  scarcely 
reached  the  end  of  his  cravat. 

"  But,"  continued  he,  "  if  Mademoiselle  could  again 
I  give  me  an  hour  or  two,  I  would  take  a  great  deal  of 
[pleasure  in  playing  some  other  pieces  with  her,  some 
which  I  shall  not  play  here,  but  which  will  do  for  the 
I  concerts  I  shall  give  this  summer  along  the  Volga." 

"Nothing  is  easier,"  said  the  mamma  gracefully, 
("little  Helene  will  be  delighted  to  practise  with  so 
jminent  an  artist." 

They  exchanged  compliments  that  were  full  of  urban- 


256  MARK  OF. 

ity,-and  the  young  girl,  who  remained  sitting  upright 
in  her  chair,  looked  at  her  red  hands  with  a  shade  of 
sadness. 

"Thank  him,  He*l£ne,  thank  the  gentleman,  who  so 
kindly  wishes  to  contribute  towards  your  perfection  —  " 

"  And  to  my  own,"  added  the  young  man,  looking 
for  the  first  time  at  the  little  pianiste  with  some  atten- 
tion. 

The  coffee  appeared  very  opportunely ;  when  people 
have  complimented  each  other,  nothing  remains  but  to 
separate,  unless  some  favorable  interruption  occurs,  and 
Ddmiane,  who  was  a  little  heavy  after  such  a  good 
meal,  did  not  feel  disposed  to  leave  at  once.  In  spite 
of  his  protestations,  he  accepted  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
the  feast  began  again  with  new  elements. 

"  One  must  really  come  into  the  provinces,  in  order 
to  have  so  good  an  appetite,"  said  the  artist  at  length 
by  way  of  excusing  an  appetite  of  which  he  was 
ashamed. 

"  It  is  the  air,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Probably.  Who  taught  your  daughter  to  play  the 
piano  ?  "  he  asked,  a  little  from  curiosity  and  a  great 
deal  for  politeness'  sake. 

"  It  was  the  band-master  of  the  regiment ;  when  the 
Colonel,  my  husband,  lived,  we  had  an  excellent  band- 
master: he  played  the  piano  to  perfection,  and  he 
composed  wonderful  waltzes ;  he  had  a  great  affection 
for  little  HelSne,  and  from  her  tenderest  age  taught  her 
all  he  knew." 

"  He  made  an  accomplished  scholar." 

"  She  profited  by  his  lessons  and  she  did  well,"  said 


31  A  R  K  O  F  .  257 

the  mamma,  sighing,  "  for  she  must  make  it  a  liveli- 
hood. I  have  a  pension  from  the  Government,  and  this 
house  belongs  to  me ;  but  of  what  good  is  it?  and  I  have 
a  very  small  property,  situated  a  little  above  the  town, 
but  all  this  does  not  bring  in  a  very  large  income." 

She  sighed  again,  and  her  daughter  raised  to  her  face 
her  sad  eyes,  which  were  sadder  than  ever.  Litt'e 
Ilelene  doubtless  had  heard  this  same  story  related 
many  times,  and  in  the  same  words,  but  she  had  never 
grown  too  familiar  with  it,  at  least  not  to  the  extent  of 
becoming  indifferent.  Demiane  understood  why  she 
never  smiled. 

"  How  she  must  bore  herself !  "  he  thought  to  himself. 
"But  Mademoiselle  plays  in  the  concerts  that  are  given 
here,"  he  continued,  aloud;  "I  do  not  suppose  she  does 
so  gratuitously?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  it  is  for  the  honor  or  the  pleas- 
ure of  it,  whichever  you  prefer,"  continued  the  mother, 
somewhat  bitterly,  "  and  still,  they  do  not  find  her  well 
enough  dressed;  the}'  wish  her  to  have  new  gowns! 
And  with  what  could  one  buy  them,  great  heaven ! " 

Demiane  said  to  himself  that  if  the  concert  succeeded, 
before  leaving  the  cit}T,  he  would  send  some  pretty 
present  to  the  young  virtuoso,. 

"  Do  you  know,"  continued  the  lady,  "  when  you 
return  to  Moscow,  I  wish  you  would  try  to  find  us  some 
pupils.  When  I  say  us,  it  means  for  her,  you  under- 
stand? If  you  could  hunt  her  up  some  scholar  .  I 
would  leave  this  town  without  regret,  I  assure  you." 

"Have   you   lived   here   for  a  long   while?"  asked 
Demiane,  mechanically. 
16 


258  MARK  OF. 

"  I  was  born  here,  and  I  married  here.  My  father 
was  too  fond  of  cards ;  he  lost  everything,  and  my 
husband  did  not  have  a  cent.  We  adored  each  other ! " 

"  O  foresight !  "  thought  the  artist. 

"I  was  married  only  eight  years.     Since  my  hus 
band's  death,  I  have  not  cared  for  anything." 

Helene  bent  her  head  forward  and  bowed  it  very 
gently,  so  that  her  lips  found  themselves  on  her 
mother's  hand  and  pressed  it  tenderly. 

"  She  is  a  good  child,  Monsieur  Markof,"  continue( 
the  lady,  "  and  she  does  all  she  can.  Try  to  find  her 
some  pupils,  arid  we  will  be  very  grateful  to  you." 

"  I  will  try,"  replied  he,  "  and  I  hope  to  succeed." 


MARKOF.  259 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE     BOUQUET. 

rtlHE  concert  was  superb,  as  they  say  on  the  banks  of 
_L  the  Volga.  De'miane  felt  that  day  the  excessive 
joy  of  those  absurd  triumphs,  in  which  the  Slavonic 
race  seems  to  throw  all  the  exuberance  that  it  econo- 
mizes the  rest  of  the  time.  Victor  modestly  quaffed 
the  generous  nectar  that  overflowed  from  the  cup  and 
was  inebriated  by  it  as  though  he  were  the  honored 
one. 

While  a  gentleman  of  the  town  executed  on  the 
zither  a  piece  that  was  as  insipid  as  the  instrument 
itself — but  he  had  sold  a  hundred  and  twenty  tickets ! 
— little  Helene  slipped  near  Victor  and  began  to  lay 
regular  siege  to  the  brave  fellow.  Her  victory  was 
quick  and  easy ;  the  key  of  the  young  cripple's  heart 
was  his  brother  De'miane,  and  the  lock  opened  of  itself. 

"  You  love  him  very  much,"  said  she  in  conclusion, 
when  she  obtained  a  certain  amount  of  information. 

Victor  nodded  his  head  energetically. 

"  It  was  you  who  made  him  his  violin  ?  " 

"  Oh !  not  I  alone !  Our  friend  Andr£  helped  me  a 
great  deal ;  our  friend  Andre  is  very  clever." 

Little  Helene  remained  thoughtful. 

"I  have  no  friends,"  said  she,   "no  brothers,  no  sis 
ters,  no  one  !  " 

"  That  is  a  great  pity  !  "  said  Victor  feelingly. 


260  MARK  OF. 

He  was  born  a  brother  to  all  those  who  had  any 
cause  for  complaining  of  destiny. 

"  Mamma  is  very  good,  but " 

She  lowered  her  head. 

"She  is  not  young  enough  for  you?"  suggested 
Victor. 

"  It  is  not  that.  She  does  not  like  to  give  herself 
trouble." 

"  You  would  like  to  go  into  society,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  By  no  means.     I  love  only  music." 

"What  is  it,  then?"  asked  the  honest  fellow,  for 
whom  the  world  and  its  conventionalities  had  still  an 
infinite  number  of  mysteries. 

"  Not  much !  "  —  We  are  not  rich,  that  is  the  misfor- 
tune !  " 

"  We  are  not  rich  either ! "  said  Victor,  laughing. 
"  What  does  that  matter !  Imagine  that  formerly  we 
lived  in  corners" 

"  In  corners  ?  " 

He  was  obliged  to  explain  what  a  corner  was  to  little 
H61ene;  she  smiled  for  an  instant,  then  said  : — "It  is 
droll !  "  and  again  assumed  her  pre-occupied  air. 

"  I  would  like  to  earn  some  money,"  said  she,  lifting 
her  eyes  to  the  platform  which  she  saw  outlined,  from 
the  room  where  she  was.  "  What  can  one  do  to  earn 
money  ?  " 

Victor  pointed  with  a  gesture  to  the  hall  and  to  the 
audience. 

"  There  !  "  said  he ;  "  the  way  is  not  a  bad  one." 

The  young  girl  sighed. 

"  It  is  difficult,"  she  said. 


MARKOF.  261 

"  Not  for  you,  at  all  events !  You  play  the  piano 
ake  an  angel !  They  will  pay  you  very  high  at  Moscow, 
you  may  be  sure  !  " 

"  Do  you  believe  so  ?  " 

"I  am  certain  of  it!  What  a  pity  that  you  could 
not  come  with  us  along  the  Volga !  We  would  do 
wonders ! " 

The  gentleman  with  the  zither  entered,  bearing  his 
instrument  in  his  hand,  and  with  all  the  joy  of  a  de- 
served success  painted  on  the  space  comprised  between 
his  crimson  ears,  his  blond  hair  and  his  red  beard. 

"It  is  our  turn  now!"  said  Demiane,  who  entered 
from  the  opposite  door.  He  had  gone  outside  to  breathe 
the  air,  for  the  heat  was  truly  intolerable. 

He  entered  the  hall  with  little  Helene  on  his  arm, 
and  was  greeted  with  frenzied  applause.  He  smiled, 
thanked  them,  and  drew  himself  up,  while  the  young 
girl  tranquilly  arranged  the  music  on  the  piano.  She 
felt  a  calm  joy  in  hearing  this  artist  applauded,  who 
was  born  in  a  village,  and  who  had  won  the  first  prize 
of  the  Conservatoire  by  the  sheer  force  of  work  and 
of  will.  Ddmiane's  success  seemed  to  her  an  act  of 
justice  on  the  part  of  Fate ;  after  having  lived  in  a 
corner,  this  hero  might  aspire  to  a  palace.  When 
the  concert  was  over,  Ddmiane  hardly  had  time  to 
thank  his  young  assistant ;  she  withdrew  discreetly, 
escorted  by  the  merry,  stout  maid,  who,  for  the  occa- 
sion, had  put  a  green  fichu  with  yellow  flowers,  over 
her  shoulders,  which  produced  an  astonishing  effect, 
and  she  returned  to  the  house  with  columns  to  make 
some  tea  for  her  mamma,  who  had  palpitations  of  the 
heart  that  day  ard  had  remained  in  bed. 


262  MAKKOF. 

While  she  was  going  to  her  large  gloomy  dwelling, 
De*miane  had  much  to  do  in  order  to  escape  from  the 
civilities  of  the  towns-people.  They  urged  him  to  give 
a  second  concert.  All  the  amateurs  promised  him  their 
assistance;  Madame  la  Ge*ne*rale,  accompanied  by  her 
daughter,  made  him  agree  to  go  and  take  tea  at  her 
house  the  same  evening,  and  all  the  young  men,  calling 
him  by  his  name,  created  a  clamor  that  deafened  him. 
He  was  obliged  to  consent  to  a  second  concert  for  the 
following  Thursday,  and  the  enthusiastic  crowd  dis- 
persed to  spread  the  great  news  through  all  Jaroslav, 
and  to  annoy  in  a  proper  manner,  by  the  story  of  his 
triumph,  those  who  had  not  been  able,  or  who  had  not 
wished  to  be  present. 

Madame  la  Gene*rale  invited  for  that  evening  all  the 
best  society  in  Jaroslav.  The  reason  of  her  change  of 
numor,  was  an  extremely  simple  one.  Ddmiane  had 
not  presented  himself  at  her  house  since  his  first  visit ; 
the  General  having  the  gout,  had  not  been  able  to 
rehearse  his  duet,  and  our  friend  had  too  many  other 
things  to  do,  to  go  and  inquire  about  him,  as  he  should 
have  done.  Madame  la  Gdndrale  was  dying  to  see  the 
handsome  youth  again,  and  moreover,  she  had  heard  of 
the  odd  repast  he  had  accepted  at  little  Heine's 
mamma's ;  a  cruel  jealousy  took  possession  of  her  soul, 
and  she  resolved  to  exhibit  Demiane  at  her  house,  to  all 
the  flower  of  the  town!  On  what  does  the  fate  of 
empires  hang ! 

Demiane  had  a  great  desire  to  go  to  bed,  although 
it  was  not  yet  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  but  Victor 
was  very  hungry,  on  account  of  having  eaten  nothing 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  263 

since  the  day  before,  so  fast  had  his  heart  beaten  with 
anxiety  and  hope.  The  two  brothers  declined  a  dozen 
invitations  to  dinner,  under  the  pretext  of  being 
fatigued,  and  went  to  their  hotel,  where  they  ordered 
themselves  a  repast  to  be  served  in  their  room.  Ddmi- 
ane  looked  at  the  food  with  disdain,  took  two  or  three 
turns  in  the  large  chamber,  which  was  adorned  with  a 
blue,  brown  and  white  wall-paper,  with  large  designs  of 
foliage  on  it,  and  which  was  as  little  conducive  to  sleep, 
as  are  the  majority  of  hotel  rooms,  and  then  threw 
himself  on  the  bed.  Victor  held  still  the  spoonful  of 
soup  that  he  had  carried  halfway  to  his  lips,  and  looked 
at  him  anxiously. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  musician ;   "  don't  worry  yourself 
about  me.     It  seems  that  after  every  concert  I  must 
feel  the  same  weariness !      Bah !   I  suppose  one  gets 
used  to  it ;  perhaps ;  we  will  see  after  our  tenth  one." 
He  yawned,  turned  himself  over  and  tried  to  sleep 
but  the  noise  outside  rendered  slumber  difficult.     The 
joyous  animation  in  the  traktirs  continued  to  increase 
since  the  morning,  and  the  air  everywhere  was  trem- 
bling with  the  vibration  of  balalaikas,  Tzigane's,  tam- 
bourines, accordeons,  and  all  the  portable  instruments 
which  are  in  use  among  the  people.     After  a  few  vain 
attempts  to  court  sleep,  De'miane  sat  upright  on  the 
edge  of  his  bed,  rubbed  his  eyes  and  said  to  lu's  brother: 
"  Do  you  know  how  much  the  concert  brought  us  ?  " 
Victor  took  out  his  note-book  and  read : 
"  Expenses:  ninety-two  roubles;  receipts:  five  hun- 
dred and  twenty-one  roubles;  net  profits:  four  hundred 
and  twenty-nine  roubles,  which  are  in  my  side  pocket." 


264  MAKE:  OF. 

"  So  much  as  that  ?  "  said  Ddmiane,  who  was  quite 
awake,  and  who  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"  Certainly  !  do  you  think  I  have  added  any  of  mine 
to  it  ?  " 

The  young  artist  approached  the  table. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  he,  "  these  Jaroslavstis'  money. 
It  is  like  the  Muscovites',"  he  added,  after  having 
fingered  the  bank-bills.  "What  shall  we  give  little 


"  Give  her  mamma  some  rnone}7.  They  are  not  rich, 
the  little  girl  told  me  so  just  now." 

"  Agreed.     We  will  give  —  How  much  ?  " 

"  Twenty-five  roubles  ?  " 

Ddmiane  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  You  are  jesting," 
said  he,  "  fifty  would  not  be  too  much.  Do  you  believe 
she  will  accept  it  ?  " 

"I  have  no  doubt  she  will;  the  mamma,  I  mean  to 
sa}r.  The  young  girl  seems  very  unselfish." 

"  Well,  I  will  go  and  order  a  bouquet  for  the  young 
lady.  Give  me  an  envelope  to  put  the  money  in  for 
her  mamma." 

While  this  was  being  done,  Demiane  whistled  a  popu- 
lar tune. 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  he,  "  that  one  cannot  have  an 
accompanist  along  with  one  :  it  would  save  a  great  loss 
of  time,  and  many  useless  rehearsals  !  But  it  is  a 
luxury  that  I  cannot  yet  give  myself." 

"  Without  considering,"  observed  Victor,  "  that  one 
sometimes  gives  one's  self  a  master  in  that  way  !  There 
are  persons  who  have  such  disagreeable  characters  !  ' 

"  As  for  that,  yes  !  Are  you  coming  ?  "  said  the 
musician,  taking  his  hat. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  265 

"  If  you  have  no  need  of  me,  I  would  prefer  to  finish 
my  dinner ! " 

Demiane  left,  laughing,  and  went  to  a  florist's,  whose 
address  had  been  given  him  at  the  hotel.  The  bouquet 
being  ordered,  our  friend  gave  himself  the  pleasure  of 
looking  at  it  while  it  was  being  made.  Men  become 
weary  of  the  pleasure  of  sending  bouquets ;  it  seems 
that  women  also  grow  weary  sometimes  of  receiving 
them,  though  this  assertion  appears  a  more  hazard- 
ous one,  but  the  first  bouquets,  whether  one  receives, 
or  whether  one  gives  them,  possess  a  peculiar  fragrance ; 
it  is  a  delicate  pleasure,  which  recalls  to  the  mind  or 
summons  forth  from  the  memory  a  whole  range  of 
pure  and  delicate  thoughts.  There  exists  no  more  real 
equality  among  flowers  than  among  men :  there  is  no 
law  in  the  world  that  would  make  a  rich  booby  the 
equal  in  the  eyes  of  society  of  some  distinguished 
looking  person  who  has  no  fortune,  any  more  than  a 
bouquet  of  tulips  could  produce  the  same  effect  as 
a  handful  of  lilies-of-the-valley,  and  the  gardenia  will 
never  make  one  think  of  the  same  things  as  will  a 
bachelor's-button,  no  matter  how  charming  the  bouquet 
of  field-flowers  may  be.  Thanks  to  the  association  of 
ideas,  there  will  always  be  an  aristocracy  among  plants. 

When  the  bouquet  was  finished  De'miane  looked  at 
it  with  delight;  they  were  the  first  flowers  he  had  ever 
given  to  a  woman,  and  he  was  very  grateful  to  little 
Hdlene  for  having  made  him  taste  this  new  happiness. 

"To  whom  must  they  be  sent?"  asked  the  florist 
with  a  smile  which  he  intended  should  be  a  knowing 
one. 


266  MARKOF. 

At  the  young  virtuoso's  name,  the  smile  departed: 
little  Helene  was  not  an  interesting  person.  However 
a  boy  was  dispatched  with  it  and  with  De'miane's  card. 

Just  as  the  latter  was  going  to  follow  his  present,  a 
ray  of  sunshine  streamed  through  the  street  with  so 
much  boldness  that  the  young  man  turned  his  back  to 
it,  in  search  of  shade,  and  his  feet  soon  led  him  into  the 
fields.  He  found  the  sun  there,  but  he  went  behind  a 
clump  of  great  birch-trees,  whose  entwined  branches 
formed  a  very  nice  screen.  It  was  under  the  shadow 
of  these  beautiful  trees  that  our  friend  took  a  short 
siesta,  which  was  full  of  dreams  and  visions. 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  was  hiding  itself  behind  the 
neighboring  forest,  leaving  enough  brightness  floating 
in  the  air  to  prevent  things  which  were  perfectly  illum- 
ined from  casting  any  shadows  on  the  ground.  This 
soft  light  fills  one  with  agreeable  impressions,  and  it 
was  with  a  mind  quite  free  from  all  care  that  Demiane 
went  towards  the  house  with  columns. 

As  he  approached  some  well-known  sounds  struck 
his  ear.  It  was  the  piano  arrangement  of  Mendels- 
sohn's Fourth  Symphony,  which  is  simply  a  hymn  to 
joy;  the  earnest  appeals  of  the  high  notes,  the  trem- 
bling of  the  lower  tones,  which  seem  to  hasten  to  a 
happy  end,  give  to  the  ear  the  impression  of  a  beau- 
tiful, bright,  sunshiny  spring  day,  one  of  those  days  on 
which  one  cannot  be  sad,  and  when,  cost  what  it  may, 
one  must  rush  forth  under  the  young  leaves  just  burst- 
ing from  their  buds. 

How  little  Helene  played  that  joyful  symphony ! 
How  she  put  her  own  individual  accent  into  it  which 


MARKOF.  267 

the  fortes,  pianos,  accelerando*,  rallentandos  of  the 
printed  music  could  never  express,  no  matter  how  much 
pains  one  might  take  to  note  them  !  She  played  as 
though  she  were  composing  the  music  as  she  went 
along,  which  one  would  have  said  was  borne  afar  by  a 
group  of  butterflies,  and  the  sounds  flew  away  in  the 
calm,  luminous,  evening  air,  as  though  they  went  to 
make  part  of  some  invisible  harmony,  high  up  in  the 
blue  heavens,  where  the  swallows  described  their  fan- 
tastic circles. 

Demiane  slackened  his  steps,  and  then  stopped ;  the 
windows  of  the  house  were  wide  open,  but  no  one 
appeared  at  them;  he  waited  until  the  allegro  was 
finished,  and  then  he  rang.  Little  Hdldne  pushed  away 
her  piano-stool  and  appeared  on  the  threshold  of  the 
drawing-room  just  as  he  entered  the  ante-chamber.  At 
the  sight  of  the  young  man  her  pretty  little  face  became 
of  a  rosy  hue,  and  she  made  a  slight  movement  towards 
him,  which  was  at  once  checked. 

"  You  have  an  extraordinary  talent,"  said  De*miane 
to  her,  without  taking  time  to  show  her  the  least 
civility. 

"  What  a  beautiful  bouquet  you  sent  me,"  she  replied, 
as  though  there  was  a  necessary  relation  between  the 
two  ideas. 

They  entered  the  drawing-room  together,  and  Ddmi- 
ane  saw  on  the  grand  piano  his  bouquet  in  a  common 
vase,  placed  so  that  it  could  be  seen  above  the  music- 
rack  by  any  one  who  was  playing. 

"It  is  true,  it  is  pretty,"  said  he,  smiling,  "but  you 
must  thank  the  florist  for  that." 


268  MAKKOF. 

"  I  have  never  received  a  bouquet  before,"  said  little 
Helene,  leaning  over  the  roses  to  drink  in  their  sweet- 
ness. 

"  And  I  have  never  sent  one  before  ;  what  a  coinci- 
dence ! "  said  De*miane,  laughing.  "  Pray  continue  your 
symphony." 

"  Would  it  give  you  pleasure  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  or  else  I  would  not  have  asked  you." 

She  sat  down  before  the  piano  without  the  least  hes- 
itation, and  began  the  little  allegretto,  which  is  so  modest, 
so  melancholy,  and  so  simple,  and  which  is  the  thin, 
cautious  shadow  of  that  picture  of  brilliant  sunshine. 
While  she  played,  a  thousand  different  impressions 
were  painted  on  her  pretty,  little  face,  which  was  as 
unassuming  and  as  sweet  as  the  music  itself ;  she  felt 
what  the  Master  intended  should  be  felt,  and  something 
far  more  rare,  she  knew  how  to  render  it. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Demiane  when  she  ended. 

She  continued,  and  the  minuetto  resumed  under  her 
fingers  the  fantastic  and  undulating  motion  of  butter- 
flies in  the  June  air ;  joy  returned  to  her  delicate  fea- 
tures as  well  as  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  drawing- 
room,  and  De'miane  declared  himself  satisfied  when  she 
finished. 

"It  is  very  good,  very  good,"  said  he,  while  the 
virtuosa  refreshed  herself  by  plunging  her  small  nose 
in  her  bouquet.  "  You  are  very  wrong  not  to  play 
in  public.  You  have  in  your  ten  fingers  what  is  neces- 
sary to  make  yourself  a  reputation." 

"  I  should  never  dare  to  do  it !  "  said  H£l£ne,  looking 
at  him  with  an  alarmed  air. 


MARKOF.  269 

"  I  assure  you  that  I  have  heard  persons  play  who  did 
not  equal  you  by  a  great  deal ! " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Here,  they  would  never  allow  me  to  play  alone  in  a 
concert ;  I  am  only  good  as  an  accompanist,  and  they 
know  it  very  well.  I  also,  know  it  well !  " 

"  It  is  not  my  opinion,"  continued  Ddmiane.  "  By 
the  way,  what  shall  we  play  at  our  next  concert  ?  " 

"  Is  it  true  then,  that  there  will  be  a  second  concert  ? 
I  am  very  glad  of  it!  We  will  play  anything  you 
wish  !  "  said  IMene,  joyfully. 

Demiane  looked  at  her  attentively  for  the  first  time. 

"How  old  are  you?"  said  he  to  her,  with  some 
surprise. 

"  Nineteen  years  old.  Have  I  not  still  the  appear- 
ance of  a  little  girl  ?  " 

"Yes  and  no,  that  depends.  I  thought  you  were 
younger,  however." 

"  Every  one  thinks  me  younger  than  I  am,  and  calls 
me  little  Hdlene,  because  I  have  not  seemed  to  know 
how  to  grow." 

Demiane  measured  her  with  his  eye;  she  was  not 
small,  but  she  was  so  slender,  so  thin,  so  fragile ;  her 
feet,  her  hands,  her  face,  were  so  delicate  that  she 
looked  like  a  child.  Perceiving  herself  thus  the  object 
of  the  young  man's  scrutiny,  she  seemed  disturbed  and 
returned  to  her  bouquet,  her  great  consoler  and  her 
friend. 

"I  am  glad  to-day,"  said  she;  "it  is  a  very  long 
while,  oh !  a  very  long  while  since  I  have  been  so  glad. 
It  is  because  the  concert  succeeded  so  well." 


270  MARKOF. 

"  Ah !  "  said  De*miane,  "  and  your  mamma  ?  I  quite 
forgot  to  ask  you  how  she  was  ?  " 

"  She  is  no  worse ;  she  has  remained  in  bed.  It  often 
happens  to  her  — " 

"To  be  ill?" 

"Yes,  and  to  remain  in  bed.  But  I  can  play  the 
piano  just  the  same,  it  does  not  disturb  her." 

"  I  have  something  for  her  — " 

"  I  will  take  it  to  her,"  said  Helene  eagerly ;  "what 
is  it?" 

De*miane  put  his  two  fingers  into  his  pocket,  then  he 
hesitat^.  and  blushed. 

"  I  would  prefer,"  said  he,  "  to  send  it  to  her  by  the 
maid." 

Hel£ne  called  the  stout  maid,  who  presented  herself 
immediately.  She  had  laid  aside  her  green  fichu^  but 
her  well-soaped  face  was  as  shiny  as  ever. 

"  Take  that  to  Madame,"  said  he  to  the  rustic  sou- 
brette,  as  he  handed  her  the  closed  envelope. 

Helene  followed  with  her  eyes  the  message  and  the 
messenger,  and  a  shadow  spread  over  her  face ;  she 
then  looked  at  the  young  artist  alarmed  and  reproach- 
fully. 

De*miane,  who  was  now  in  his  turn  disconcerted, 
approached  the  bouquet  and  smelt  a  bit  of  heliotrope. 

"  Madame  would  like  to  speak  to  you,"  said  the  Iris, 
returning. 

He  followed  her  into  an  odd  looking  room,  which  was 
still  more  oddly  furnished.  A  very  low  camp-bed  occu- 
pied the  middle  of  the  chamber,  and  on  it  Hdlene's 
mamma,  who  was  fully  dressed,  and  covered  with  an 


MARKOF.  271 

old  pelisse  of  grey  fur,  was  taking  a  cup  of  tea.  The 
cinders  and  remains  of  a  fabulous  number  of  cigarettes 
covered  the  waiter  which  was  placed  on  a  chair  near 
her.  The  small  willow  screen,  which  had  previously 
protected  the  young  man's  eyes  from  the  dazzling  day- 
light in  the  drawing-room,  was  in  its  old  place  in  front 
of  the  bed ;  two  or  three  chairs,  filled  with  parts  of  her 
toilette,  a  washstand,  whose  pitcher  was  without  a 
handle,  and  which  was  moreover  slightly  chipped  in 
places,  a  pair  of  embroidered  slippers  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed,  and  a  pack  of  cards  scattered  on  a  table,  completed 
the  furniture. 

"  Sit  down,  Monsieur  Markof,"  said  the  lady,  point- 
ing to  a  chair  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  which  the  maid 
dusted  with  her  apron  before  offering  to  him ;  "  I 
must  thank  you  for  the  generosity  you  have  displayed 
toward  us.  The  bouquet  was  quite  sufficient." 

De*miane  smiled;  this  way  of  considering  things 
appeared  original  to  him,  but  he  was  so  surprised  at 
what  he  saw  around  him,  that  he  only  had  time  to 
make  some  commonplace  reply. 

"I  hope,"  continued  the  Mamma,  "that  you  will 
bring  good  luck  to  my  little  Helene ;  this  is  the  first 
time  that  her  talent  has  earned  her  anything  !  " 

"  It  will  enrich  her  soon,  I  hope,"  said  Ddmiane 
politely. 

"  I  doubt  it !  No  one  is  a  prophet  in  his  own 
country,  you  know,  Monsieur  Markof;  we  should  be 
obliged  to  leave  Jaroslav;  and  without  any  friends, 
without  any  protector,  where  could  two  women  gc 
alone?" 


272  MARK  OF. 

Ddmiane  nodded  his  head  approvingly. 

"  And  then,"  said  he,  "  no  doubt  you  cling  to  this 
house,  to  your  habits  ?  " — 

"  My  habits,  good  Heavens !  I  have  had  none  for  a 
long  while!  I  sleep  on  a  camp-bed,  you  see;  it 
belonged  to  my  late  husband,  when  he  accompanied 
his  regiment.  I  was  married  here,  Monsieur,  but  I 
followed  the  Colonel  to  all  his  garrisons,  and  I  only 
returned  when  he  died.  I  assure  you  that  in  that  kind 
of  life  one  does  not  acquire  habits !  " 

"  Are  you  very  fond  of  Jaroslav,  then  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  It  is  a  horrible  town  ;  the  aristocracy 
of  the  place  are  insufferably  haughty ;  these  people 
have  never  been  willing  to  treat  me  as  their  equal,  and 
yet  as  regards  my  birth,  I  am  better  than  any  of  them ; 
but  a  colonelle  has  no  rank,  one  must  be  a  genSrale,  and 
then  I  am  not  rich. —  Never  mind,  Monsieur  Markof, 
you  have  acted  very  nicely,  and  I  must  thank  you 
for  it." 

The  artist  rose,  bowed  and  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room  where  Helthie  met  him  half  reproachfully;  but 
on  seeing  Demiane's  calmness,  her  face  again  wore  its 
usual  expression. 

"  Till  to-morrow,"  said  he  to  her  as  he  held  out  his 
hand;  "I  will  come  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  we  will 
select  our  pieces." 

"  Are  you  going  ?  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  would 
remain  to  take  some  tea  with  us ! " 

"  I  am  invited  to  Madame  la  Ge'ne'rale's  house.  You 
will  be  there  without  doubt  ?  " 

"They  have  not  asked  me,"  said  she  bowing  hei 


MARKOF.  273 

head;  "they   never  invite  me  when  they  have   com- 
pany." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  them  !  "  said  the  young  man 
frowning :  "  it  does  no  honor  to  their  good  taste.  Till 
to-morrow,  then." 

"  Bring  your  brother  with  you,"  said  she  timidly,  as 
she  accompanied  him  to  the  door. 

"  Ah !  you  have  become  acquainted  with  each 
other  ?  " 

"He  is  so  good!  I  think  I  should  like  him  very 
much. —  He  will  come,  will  he  not  ?  " 

"  He  will  be  too  happy  to  obey  you." 

The  door  closed  on  Ddmiane,  and  Hdl£ne  from  the 
window,  sa\v  him  walking  away  proudly,  with  head 
erect;  he  was  as  handsome  and  as  proud  as  Apollo. 
When  he  disappeared,  she  returned  to  the  piano,  touched 
the  keys  with  the  ends  of  her  fingers,  and  smelt  of  her 
bouquet,  then  suddenly  recalling  something  went  to 
find  her  mother. 

"  Little  one,"  said  the  latter,  on  seeing  her,  "  guess 
how  much  Markof  has  given  us  for  the  concert  ?  " 

The  little  one's  eyes  dilated  strangely,  and  she  did 
not  answer. 

"  Fifty  roubles,  my  darling !  It  is  the  first  money  that 
you  have  earned ;  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  it  so 
that  it  may  bring  you  happiness  ! " 

Heldne  obeyed  mechanically,  then  returned  the  bank 
bill  to  her  mother. 

"  We  are  going  to  make  you  a  new  dress  for  the 
other  concert,  a  beautiful  tarlatane  —  shall  it  be  pink?" 

"  White,  mamma,  if  you  please," 
17 


274  MAKKOF. 

"  As  you  choose.  Send  me  the  maid  with  your  old 
dress,  that  I  may  see  how  much  material  is  needed." 

Hel£ne  left  and  executed  her  mother's  order ;  but 
instead  of  returning  to  assist  at  the  council,  she  went 
directly  to  her  bouquet. 

The  daylight  was  dying,  without  becoming  quite 
dark,  as  it  does  at  that  period  of  the  year  in  that  lati- 
tude ;  and  the  drawing-room,  being  less  lighted,  seemed 
also  sad  and  barren ;  little  Hdlene  could  dream  at  her 
ease.  She  began  to  walk  slowly  from  one  end  of  the  large 
room  to  the  other,  stopping  a  moment  each  time  that 
she  passed  near  the  flowers,  and  soon,  without  knowing 
the  reason  why,  she  found  her  face  bathed  in  tears. 
The  peace  of  that  day  had  been  disturbed. —  By  what? 
It  was  very  nice,  however,  to  have  earned  so  much 
money. — Earned  it!  The  first  money  that  one  earns 
gives  birth  to  so  many  emotions,  so  many  new  thoughts 
in  one  who  is  beginning  life. — Yes,  but  it  ought  not  to 
have  been  given  by  Demiane !  She  would  have  been 
so  happy  to  have  played  with  him,  without  any  pay, 
for  the  honor  of  it. —  She  suddenly  seized  her  bouquet, 
buried  her  face  in  it  and  her  tears  fell  on  the  roses. 


MARKOF.  275 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 

MADAME     LA   GENERAL  E'S     PARTY. 

AT  Madame  la  Ge'ne'rale's,  Ddmiane  in  truth  received 
an  ovation ;  this  lady  who  by  the  way,  could  not 
pride  herself  on  being  logical,  proclaimed  the  young 
artist,  "  the  first  man  of  his  age  !  "  No  one  knew,  how- 
ever, very  well  what  she  meant  by  this  expression,  and 
the  assembly  was  a  brilliant  one ;  the  good  lady  invited 
all  the  most  fashionable  people  in  Jaroslav,  her  best 
friends  and  her  worst  enemies,  the  former  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  their  society,  the  latter,  in  order  to  humiliate 
them  by  her  superiority.  Looking  very  ugly  and  being 
over  dressed  she  went  from  one  group  to  another,  and 
the  result  of  her  efforts  was  a  general  request  for  a 
piece  on  the  violin. 

Ddmiane  was  not  very  much  inclined  to  play; 
besides  the  weariness  which  was  natural  for  him  to  feel 
after  an  effort  such  as  he  had  made  that  day,  he  shared 
with  many  artists  an  idea  that  the  common  run  of 
people  contend  against  vehemently,  but  which  never- 
theless gains  ground  every  day,  namely :  that  a  musi- 
cian is  no  more  obliged  to  pay  for  his  invitation  by 
giving  a  specimen  of  his  talent,  than  a  painter  is  con- 
strained by  custom  to  make  a  sketch  every  time  he  goes 
to  pass  an  hour  in  a  drawing-room.  However  the  enthu- 
siastic young  folks  having  applauded  him  several  times, 
he  sent  to  the  hotel  for  his  instrument  of  torture,  and 
suffered  himself  to  be  conducted  to  the  piano. 


276  MARK  OF. 

Mademoiselle  Mavroucha,  her  Excellency  Madame 
la  Ge*ne*rale's  own  daughter,  dressed  in  light  blue  and 
extremely  decollet£e,  awaited  him  on  the  piano-stool 
with  her  yellow  shoulders  protruding  prominently  from 
her  dress,  and  her  red  arms  resting  on  her  knees.  She 
cast  a  pathetic  glance  at  the  artist,  and  pointed  with 
her  finger  to  the  name  of  the  piece  of  music  that  was 
open  on  the  rack.  It  was  the  very  one  which  De'miane 
played  with  Helene  that  very  morning.  Without 
thinking  of  his  accompaniment,  the  young  man,  who 
meant  no  harm,  gave  himself  the  note,  and  the  music 
began. 

What  an  artist  of  talent  can  suffer  when  he  is  badly 
accompanied  and  when,  the  piano  being  played  by  a 
woman,  he  cannot  give  vent  in  a  low  tone  to  one  of 
those  good  oaths  which  solace  a  troubled  spirit,  no  one 
can  appreciate  save  those  who  have  been  in  such  a 
situation.  The  piece  was  finished,  to  the  admiration  of 
some,  and  to  the  dissatisfaction  of  others ;  for  one  meets 
everywhere  in  Russia,  people  of  taste,  who  are  connois- 
seurs in  music,  and  whom  it  is  impossible  to  deceive. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  daughter's  playing?" 
asked  la  Gendrale,  as  she  approached  Demiane  to  thank 
him. 

"  She  is  still  a  little  inexperienced ;  but  at  her  age  that 
is  only  an  additional  charm  ! "  the  artist  dared  to  reply, 
thinking  of  the  success  of  his  second  concert,  and  trust- 
ing that  the  tickets  the  mother  would  sell  would  pay 
him  for  the  impudent  falsehood. 

Mavroucha  raised  her  eyes,  which  were  full  of  smoth- 
ered fire,  on  the  young  man,  and  smiled  and  blushed. 


MARK  OF.  277 

He  went  to  receive  compliments  from  the  others,  and 
the  young  girl  withdrew  into  a  little  corner  which  was 
isolated  from  the  drawing-room  by  some  green  plants, 
in  order  to  meditate  on  an  idea  which  had  just  taken 
root  in  her  dull  brain. 

The  young  man  found  that  she  possessed  charms, — 
and  she!  how  much  did  she  not  find  in  him!  Now 
Mademoiselle  Mavra — of  which  Mavroucha  is  the  pet 
name  and  not  the  abbreviation,  as  is  usually  the  case 
with  most  nicknames  —  had  stuffed  her  head  with 
novels  at  the  Institute  of  Kasan,  where  she  was  edu- 
cated ;  in  all  those  novels,  a  young  girl  of  good  family, 
after  a  thousand  vicissitudes,  became  the  wife  of  a 
handsome  young  man  without  fortune,  who  was  dis- 
covered afterwards  to  be  an  immensely  rich  prince. 
But  what  did  rank  or  fortune  matter  to  Mademoiselle 
Mavra?  The  essential  thing  for  the  moment  was  to 
see  herself  beloved  by  a  handsome  young  man,  who 
was  different  from  all  others  and  noticeably  destined 
for  something  extraordinary.  De*miane  united  all  these 
qualities  and  the  young  girl,  with  that  readiness  for 
receiving  impressions,  which  distinguishes  young  ladies 
who  are  educated  in  Institutes,  from  all  other  young 
ladies  on  the  globe,  declared  herself  instantly  in  love 
with  the  violinist. 

It  is  indeed  something  to  be  in  love  with  a  remark- 
able young  man,  but  it  is  also  very  necessary  that  he 
should  return  that  love.  Now  how  can  he  return  it  if 
he  does  not  know  of  it?  Would  a  violinist  of  talent, 
but  without  fortune,  dare  to  raise  his  eyes  to  the 
daughter  of  a  General,  to  an  heiress,  to  the  flower  of 


278  MARK  OF. 

the  nobility  of  the  country  ?  Evidently  he  would  not. 
Besides,  true  merit  is  always  modest  and  needs  to  be 
encouraged.  Therefore  that  De'miane  must  be  encour- 
aged was  as  clear  as  the  day. 

While  Madame  la  Generale,  who  was  talking  of  form- 
ing a  contre-danse,  was  looking  for  her  daughter,  who 
was  so  well  protected  from  indiscreet  young  men,  — 
contrary  to  little  Helene,  whom  they  allowed  to  talk 
with  every  one,  —  the  young  person  was  scribbling  in 
her  room,  on  a  little  piece  of  pink  paper,  the  following 
words,  which  were  an  echo  of  her  thoughts: 

"  De'miane,  you  have  genius  and  I  love  you ! 

"  MAVKA." 

"Mavroucha!"  cried  her  mamma,  who  was  looking 
for  her  everywhere. 

"  Mamma  !  "  replied  the  young  lady,  appearing. 

"Where  are  you  hiding  yourself?  The  dances  must 
be  arranged  !  Mon  Dieu  !  how  red  your  face  is  !  " 

"  It  is  the  heat,  mamma,"  replied  the  young  dissem- 
bler. 

"  Come  quickly,  I  am  going  to  ask  Monsieur  Markof 
to  dance  the  first  contre-danse  with  me.  I  think  he 
will  know  enough  to  ask  you  for  the  second  one." 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

The  ball  opened  brilliantly.  Markof  had  progressed 
since  the  day  of  his  entrance  into  society  under  the 
auspices  of  the  G-esellschaft,  and  he  went  through  the 
first  quadrille,  and  even  the  cotillon,  with  honor  to 
himself.  For  the  second  contre-danse,  he  engaged  Made- 
moiselle Mavra,  as  had  been  foreseen ;  but  what  he  had 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  279 

not  foreseen  was  the  thunderbolt  in  a  serene  sky,  which 
was  to  put  a  stop  to  his  successes  for  that  day. 

The  first  figure  ended.  During  the  moments  of  rest, 
when  every  one  having  returned  to  his  place,  awaits 
the  signal  from  the  piano  to  begin  the  second,  he  held 
out  his  hand  to  his  partner,  who  made  an  awkward 
movement,  and  the  pink  paper  which  was  folded  to- 
gether and  which  she  had  taken  from  her  glove,  fell 
at  their  feet  on  the  polished  floor. 

One  can  never  imagine,  unless  one  has  heard  it,  what 
a  noise  a  little  piece  of  folded  paper  can  make  as  it 
falls  on  the  floor,  when  every  one  is  motionless  and 
silent,  waiting  for  the  signal.  Moreover,  Mavra's  dress 
was  blue,  the  polished  floor  light-brown,  the  note  pink 
and  written  on  thick  paper,  and  clumsily  folded.  The 
entire  company  turned  their  eyes  towards  the  couple ; 
Mavra  gave  a  scream  of  despair  and  fell  on  her  chair  in 
a  half-real,  half-feigned  swoon. 

"  A  note  !  "  This  word  ran  through  the  room  in  a 
very  loud  whisper,  and  betokened  a  rising  storm. 

"  My  daughter ! "  exclaimed  la  Ge*ndrale,  flying  to 
her  child. 

The  unfortunate  Demiane,  to  whom  Caroline  had 
not  revealed  all  the  secrets  of  feminine  artfulness, 
stooped,  without  thinking  there  was  any  harm  in  so 
doing,  to  pick  up  the  note.  La  Gdnerale,  who  sus- 
pected the  truth  —  her  instinct  probably  being  aided 
by  something  similar  in  her  experience  —  thought  only 
of  keeping  up  appearances. 

"A  note  to  my  daughter!"  she  exclaimed;  "you 
dare  try  to  give  a  note  to  my  daughter,  and  in  my 


280  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

presence !  in  the  presence  of  this  honorable  company  I 
Ah !  Monsieur !  you  are  only  a  miserable  madman ! 
Begone ! " 

"  I ! "  exclaimed  Demiane,  with  a  bound,  at  the 
undeserved  insult.  "I,  with  a  note!  May  the  devil 
take  me  if  the  note  did  not  fall  from  your  daughter's 
hand !  " 

Two  thirds  of  the  company  began  to  laugh.  Made- 
moiselle Mavra's  romantic  disposition  was  a  secret  to 
110  one,  and  out  of  forty  guests,  there  were  at  least 
thirty-nine  who  were  perfectly  convinced  of  Demiane's 
truthfulness.  But  the  young  girl's  honor,  said  some, 
the  respect  due  to  appearances,  said  others,  made  a 
scape-goat  necessary,  and  Demiane  lost  his  cause  by 
pleading  it  with  too  much  simplicity.  Another,  clev- 
erer than  he,  would  have  humbly  excused  himself, 
while  at  the  same  time,  knowingly  winking  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left,  and  he  would  have  had  the  whole  town 
on  his  side.  In  the  state  in  which  things  were,  there  was 
nothing  for  our  friend  to  do  but  to  take  his  hat  and 
retire,  which  he  did,  while  a  too  zealous  lady  threw  the 
contents  of  a  pitcher  of  water  over  Mavra's  blue  dress 
and  thus  drew  the  young  girl  from  her  swoon. 

Victor,  who  escaped  from  the  fray,  followed  his 
brother  without  saying  a  word,  and  they  returned  to 
their  hotel  very  much  disenchanted. 

"What  will  happen?"  asked  poor  Victor,  sadly, 
when  each  one  was  seated  on  his  own  bed.  There  k 
no  one  who  has  not  remarked  how  in  all  great  calami- 
ties, one  sits  more  willingly  on  the  edge  of  one's  bed 
than  on  a  chair,  when  the  height  of  the  bed  will  allow  it. 


MARKOF.  281 

"  The  second  concert  is  done  for ! "  replied  Ddmiane, 
accompanying  this  conclusion  with  an  expression  that 
was  not  very  flattering  to  Mademoiselle  Mavra,  whose 
name  he  did  not  know. 

"  Then  it  was  she  who  gave  the  note  to  you ! " 

"  Do  you  suppose  by  any  chance  that  I  am  stupid 
enough. — If  she  had  only  known  how  to  do  it  adroitly. 
But  she  is  as  silly  as  she  is  ugly ! " 

"  What  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  Go  to  bed  first  and  try  to  sleep, 
for  it  is  midnight.  There  will  be  time  enough  to 
grumble  to-morrow  and  on  the  following  days !  " 


282  M  A  11  K  O  F  . 


CHAPTER    XXX. 
DKIVEN   AWAY! 

IT  happened  the  next  day,  that  an  order  arrived 
from  the  chief  of  police  to  leave  the  town  within 
twenty-four  hours. 

Such  a  heavy  blow,  such  an  undeserved  affront  was 
well  calculated  to  dishearten  timid  Victor.  D^miane 
was  not  of  the  same  temperament ;  hardly  had  he  heard 
the  fatal  news,  than  he  went  at  once  from  house  to 
house,  endeavoring  not  to  diminish  its  effect,  but  to 
make  himself  sure  of  some  friends. 

Friends  were  not  wanting,  but  every  one,  while 
wholly  blaming  Madame  la  Generale  and  her  silly 
daughter,  recognized  the  necessity  of  bowing  to  the 
decrees  of  the  authorities.  They  were  very  willing  to 
laugh  in  their  sleeves  at  the  mishap  which  had  oc- 
curred to  the  pink  note,  and  no  one  had  believed  Demi- 
ane  guilty ;  but  no  person  was  willing  to  undertake  to 
intercede  with  the  chief  of  police,  with  the  Governor, 
or  any  one  else. 

"  The  one  who  is  the  most  vexed,"  said  Mozine,  as 
he  acccompanied  Ddmiane  to  the  door  of  his  office,  "  is 
the  General,  who  will  not  be  able  to  play  his  famous  duo 
for  the  clarionette  and  violin ;  it  is  the  ninth  time  that 
he  has  missed  the  occasion  of  so  doing;  he  must  be 
furious,  for  he  will  never  find  a  like  one  again." 

The  young  artist  was  not  in  a  much  better  temper 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  283 

than  the  General,  but  he  had  no  right  to  complain  — 
aloud,  at  least,  —  and  recognizing  the  uselessness  of  his 
efforts,  he  resolved  to  yield  to  fate  instead  of  struggling 
against  it. 

"  What  do  you  advise  me  to  do  ? "  he  asked  the 
music-lover. 

"  To  go  and  give  a  concert  in  another  town,  a  little 
distant  from  here  ;  they  gossip  so  much  in  the  country! 
Were  I  in  your  place,  I  would  go  as  far  as  Nijni  with- 
out stopping.  Nijni  is  far  enough  away  for  the  rumors 
of  Jaroslav  to  die  away  before  reaching  it." 

"  We  are  going  to  leave,"  said  D^miane  to  Victor 
when  he  returned  to  the  hotel.  "  I  have  just  come  from 
the  river  bank.  There  is  a  boat  which  leaves  for  Nijni 
at  ten  o'clock  to-night.  We  will  take  it." 

"  So  much  the  better* ! "  sighed  the  poor  fellow. 
"  Since  the  police  have  interfered  with  our  affairs,  I  do 
not  even  dare  to  go  near  the  window.  The  waiters  in 
the  hotel  look  at  me  with  suspicious  glances  ;  I  am  sure 
they  think  that  we  have  stolen  something !  " 

Demiane  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  began  to  pile 
his  things  into  his  valise.  Victor  did  the  same  on  his 
side,  but  so  mournfully  that  it  was  a  severe  trial  for  his 
brother's  nerves.  When  they  finished  they  looked  at 
each  other,  and  the  violinist's  bad  humor  burst  forth. 

"Though  you  may  look  like  a  fountain  whose  basin 
has  been  carried  away,  it  will  not  prevent  la  (iondrale 
from  being  a  goose,  her  daughter  a  dunce  and  the  Gen- 
eral an  ass !  without  counting  the  chief  of  the  police 
and  the  Governor,  who  are  two  buffaloes  !  " 

"  Demiane,   in    the    name    of    Heaven,   hold    your 


284  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

tongue !  You  will  get  us  into  prison ! "  exclaimed 
Victor,  who  was  bold  through  his  alarm. 

"I  have  finished  with  that  menagerie,"  concluded 
Demiane,  who  was  a  little  calmed  by  the  words  he 
uttered.  "  What  I  meant  to  say  to  you  was,  that  you 
really  look  as  though  you  had  committed  some  theft, 
and  that  your  face  will  be  the  means  of  our  getting 
shot  if  you  do  not  change  it !  Rouse  yourself  and 
come  with  me." 

"  Go  out  in  the  street  ?  "  stammered  Victor,  who  had 
become  quite  pale. 

"  Where  would  you  have  one  go,  if  not  in  the  street  ? 
Really,  I  believe  the  air  of  this  town  is  unusually  stu- 
pefying I  I  do  not  understand  you  I  " 

"  In  the  street,  Demiane ;  why,  they  will  point  their 
fingers  at  us  ! " 

"Well,  that  will  occupy  them.  I  think  they  have 
become  idiotic  from  having  nothing  to  do.  It  will  be 
an  occupation  for  them  until  this  evening,  .and  to-mor- 
row they  can  rest." 

"  Where  do  you  wish  to  go? " 

"  To  little  Hdlene's  !  We  cannot  leave  without  bid- 
ding them  good-bye.  And  then  we  will  see  if  they  are 
as  stupid  as  the  others.  That  would  surprise  me,  how- 
ever." 

Victor  did  not  dread  little  HelSne  very  much,  and 
if  he  could  have  gone  to  her  house  without  passing 
through  the  streets,  he  would  have  shown  an  astonish- 
ing eagerness  to  do  so.  Unfortunately,  it  was  impos- 
sible, and  he  was  obliged  to  go  out  under  curious, 
cunning  or  alarmed  glances,  according  to  the  characters 


MARK  OF.  285 

of  the  different  waiters  in  the  hotel.  Just  as  they 
were  about  to  step  across  the  threshold  of  the  door, 
the  proprietor  presented  himself,  with  a  paper  in  his 
hand. 

"Will  these  gentlemen  please  to  settle  their  little 
bill,"  said  he,  not  very  politely. 

"  But  we  are  not  going  to  leave  till  this  evening," 
observed  Victor,  who  did  not  understand. 

"  I  would  prefer  to  have  your  luggage  carried  to  the 
boat  immediately,"  continued  the  personage. 

Victor  was  going  to  have  a  discussion,  but  his 
brother  put  his  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  You  do  not  understand,"  said  he  calmly,  "  that  this 
good  man  turns  us  out  of  doors.  He  imagines  that  we 
have  stolen  the  bell  from  the  cathedral.  Show  me 
your  bill,  my  friend,"  said  he  to  the  host,  who  did  not 
know  what  face  to  put  on  the  matter. 

He  took  the  paper,  and  placed  it  on  the  high  desk 
which  is  to  be  found  in  the  peristyles  of  all  Russian 
hotels,  probably  for  the  purpose  of  revising  bills,  and 
added  the  sum  with  the  same  calmness  as  though  he 
were  at  school. 

"  You  have  twice  charged  the  tea  we  had  day  before 
yesterday  in  the  morning,  and  two  dinners  too  many ; 
see  for  yourself." 

"  It  is  true,"  stammered  the  host,  "  permit  me,  I  will 
go  and  alter  it — " 

"  I  will  alter  it  myself.  There  is  your  money.  As 
to  our  luggage,  don't  trouble  yourself  about  it,  we  will 
take  it  ourselves.  Do  you  wish  to  look  into  our  valises 
to  see  whether  we  are  carrying  off  any  of  yutir  furni- 
ture?" 


286  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  Permit  me,  Monsieur,  such  an  idea  never  — "  mur 
mured  the  host,  astounded  at  this  manner  of  acting. 

"No  such  idea?  well,  so  much  the  better." 

De*miane  ran  quickly  up  to  their  room,  while  the 
host  made  the  most  profuse  excuses  to  Victor,  who  did 
not  listen  to  him,  and  he  descended  immediately,  carry- 
ing the  two  valises  in  one  hand,  and  his  violin  in  its 
case  in  the  other. 

"  Come,  brother,"  said  he,  "  do  not  let  us  contaminate 
any  longer  the  honorable  house  of  this  proprietor. 
Good  afternoon,  Monsieur,  and  good  luck !  " 

He  left  without  turning  round,  followed  by  Victor, 
who  hurriedly  took  one  of  the  valises  from  him. 

When  they  turned  the  corner  of  the  first  street, 
Ddmiane  stopped  to  change  the  articles  he  was  carry- 
ing, from  one  hand  to  another. 

"  That  is  not  the  way  to  the  river,"  observed  Victor, 
seeing  him  continue  his  route  with  a  deliberate  step. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  we  were  going  to  the  house 
of  little  Hel£ne ! "  growled  D^miane,  hastening  his 
gait. 


M  A  RK  O  F .  287 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

QUICK     RESOLVES. 

AT  the  artist's  ring, —  he  rang  very  loudly  without 
knowing  it, —  the  stout  maid  came  running  with 
bare  feet  and  opened  the  door  with  a  merry  look  on 
her  face;  at  the  sight  of  the  valises  she  burst  out 
laughing,  and  ran  to  announce  to  her  mistress  the 
unexpected  visit  of  the  gentlemen  who  were  loaded 
with  packages.  Her  story  must  have  been  eloquent, 
for  little  Hdlene's  mamma  appeared  at  once,  followed 
by  her  daughter,  whose  anxious  face  lighted  up  on 
seeing  De'miane. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  said  the  mother. 
"  They  have  driven  us  away  from  here,"  answered 
he  young  man ;  "  the  police  find  us  dangerous." 

u  The  police  ?  You  are  dreaming  !  "  and  De'miane 
•elated  in  a  few  words  the  scandal  of  the  day  before 
ind  its  unfortunate  result.  When  he  came  to  the  pink 
lote,  he  surprised  a  smile  on  little  Helene's  face,  which 
stopped  him  short. 

"  Does  it  not  astonish  you?  "  said  he  brusquely. 
"  No  ! "  answered  the  young  girl,  shaking  her  head 
gently,  "  but  never  mind." 

He  continued  his  story,  and  finished  it  with  the 
jcene  with  the  hotel-keeper. 

"  You  must  dine  with  us,"  said  the  mamma,  as  soon 
is  he  ended,  "and  then  we  will  talk  about  it.  Mon 


288  MARKOF. 

Dieu !  what  a  misfortune !  I  thought  that  perhaps 
you  would  settle  here !  My  daughter  would  have 
improved  so  much  with  you !  " 

"And  I,"  said  the  young  man  with  regret.  "  I  shall 
never  find  anywhere  an  accompanist  like  herself !  It 
was  such  a  pleasure  to  play  with  her,  yes,  a  pleasure 
such  as  I  had  never  before  experienced." 

Little  Hel£ne  looked  at  him  furtively  in  order  to 
thank  him.  At  the  announcement  of  this  sudden 
departure,  she  felt  overcome  and  ready  to  burst  into 
tears  without  knowing  why :  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
earth  was  failing  her  under  her  feet,  and  breath  to  her 
lungs,  that  life  was  becoming  a  torture  and  she  could 
not  explain  to  herself  the  cause  of  her  strange  wretch- 
edness. 

"Where  are  you  going?  "  said  the  mamma. 

"  To  Nijni." 

"And  from  there?" 

"  I  do  not  know !     Perhaps  to  the  Caucasus !  " 

"  To  the  Caucasus  !  so  far !  " 

Victor  looked  at  his  brother  with  astonishment :  he 
had  never  heard  the  Caucasus  spoken  of.  Where  did 
he  get  this  sudden  caprice?  But  Demiane  paid  no 
attention  to  him. 

"  What  a  pity !  "  continued  the  mamma,  "  that  I  am 
not  ten  years  younger,  I  would  have  gone  with  you.  I 
adore  travelling,  and  little  Helene  would  have  accom- 
panied you  as  well  at  Nijni  as  here." 

"  Madame  I  "  exclaimed  De'miane,  who  was  trans- 
ported with  delight,  "it  is  Providence  that  has  inspired 
you  with  that  idea.  Come  with  us !  We  will  give 
excellent  concerts  and  we  will  make  heaps  of  money  1 " 


MARK  OF  289 

The  mamma  began  to  laugh.    The  daughter  blushed. 

"What  a  joke!"  said  the  lady,  good-naturedly. 
"  You  are  not  serious." 

"  I  am  perfectly  serious.  When  you  have  had  enough 
of  it,  you  will  be  quite  at  liberty  to  return  here." 

"  What  would  they  say  about  it  in  the  town  ?  " 

"  What  do  they  not  say  now  ?  Does  that  make  any 
difference  to  you?" 

The  mamma  hesitated  for  an  instant. 

"What  do  you  say  about  it,  Helene?  It  is  not 
serious  ?  "  said  she,  turning  towards  her  daughter. 

"  I  would  like  very  much  to  descend  the  Volga, 
mamma,"  she  answered  with  her  tranquil  voice,  but 
turning  away  her  head. 

"Oh!  Madame,  come,"  said  Victor,  "we  will  form 
one  family;  it  will  be  a  thousand  times  more  charming, 
and  then  we  will  also  be  more  respectable." 

Victor,  as  one  sees,  had  ideas  of  his  own  about 
respectability;  but  his  ideas  were  of  very  little  import- 
ance in  regard  to  what  concerns  us ;  the  lady  smiled 
with  an  undecided  air. 

"Madame,  I  beg  of  you!"  said  Ddmiane.  "I  am 
ready  to  give  you  half  of  the  profits;  it  will  save  us 
from  having  recourse  to  those  chance  artists,  whom  one 
is  obliged  to  endure  in  towns,  and  with  whom,  no 
matter  what  one  does,  one  is  never  quits.  Do  you  not 
wish  to  come,  Mademoiselle?"  added  he,  turning  to 
Helene. 

She  rose  and  leaned  against  the  piano,  and  her  head 
was  very  near  her  yesterday's  bouquet,  which  was  still 
very  fresh  and  full  of  perfume. 
18 


290  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  I  do  !  "  she  replied  faintly,  in  so  clear  a  voice  that 
they  all  looked  at  }ier,  surprised  at  her  curtness. 

"Come,  then  !  'Vsaid  her  mother  .with  a  sigh. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest?  " 

"  No  one  could  be  more  so." 

"  But  we  are  going  to  leave  this  evening,"  Victor 
remarked. 

"  Well !  we  will  leave  together !  We  will  make  your 
new  dress  at  Nijni,  will  we  not,  little  one?" 

IMene  approved  with  a  nod.  She  had  become  dumb 
again  since  the  announcement  of  her  resolve. 

"  I  am  going  to  pack  the  trunk,"  said  her  mother, 
"  will  you  come  ?  " 

"  I  pack  so  badly,  mamma,"  said  she,  beseechingly. 

"Let  us  rehearse,  Mademoiselle,  let  us  rehearse," 
said  Demiane,  with  eagerness.  "  Who  knows  when  we 
will  have  a  good  piano  to  practise  on.  It  will  do  for 
our  second  concert !  " 

"  That  is  right,  rehearse,"  said  the  mamma,  disap- 
pearing. 

Victor,  alone  acting  as  the  public,  placed  himself  as 
well  as  he  could  on  an  uncomfortable  chair,  and  a  few 
minutes  later,  our  musicians,  lost  in  the  ardor  of  their 
study,  forgot  the  police,  Madame  la  Gene*rale,  and  even 
their  proposed  departure. 

Towards  midnight,  for  a  boat  that  is  not  behindhand 
on  the  Volga  is  no  longer  a  boat,  the  four  travellers, 
who  had  not  left  each  other,  found  themselves  on  one 
of  those  superb  steamboats  that  are  so  comfortably 
furnished.  They  secured  places  in  the  saloons  and 
installed  themselves  on  divans,  where  they  were  to  pass 


MARKOP.  291 

I 

the  night. '  Just  as  Demiane  was  shutting  his  eyes, 
Victor  approached  him  and  said  to  him  in  his  ear: 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  little. Clone's  mamma?" 

"TSTo,  and  you?" 

"Neither  do  I;  we'nfust  ask  Her  what  it  is." 

The  lady  was  going  to  and  fro,  arranging  her  numer- 
ous small  parcels. 

Ddmiane  rose  to  his  feet  and  approached  her  politely : 

"  I  beg  you  to  excuse  me,"  said  he,  "  but  I  have  not 
the  honor  of  knowing  your  family  name  ?  " 

She  began  to  laugh ;  and  Hdlene,  who  was  already 
stretched  out  on  the  divan,  turned  around  to  see  what 
amused  her  so  much. 

"  How  curious !  "  said  the  lady.  "  Here  we  are  such 
good  friends,  we  are  travelling  together,  we  are  united 
for  some  time  at  least,  and  you  do  not  know  my  name ! 
How  did  you  speak  of  me  then  between  yourselves  ?  " 

Victor  smiled. 

"  Little  Helene's  mamma,"  said  he. 

4<  Do  your  hear,  little  one  ?  " 

Helene  smiled  also,  and  her  smile  could  be  seen  on 
her  sweet  face,  in  spite  of  the  uncertain  glimmer  of  the 
candle,  which  very  feebly  lighted  the  deserted  saloon, 
which  they  occupied  alone. 

"  My  name  is  Madame  Mianof,"  said  the  mamma,  as 
she  lay  down  to  sleep  in  her  turn.  "Good-night,  my 
dear  friends.  A  good  night  on  the  Volga,  and  may 
God  watch  over  our  journey." 

"  Amen !  "  replied  the  three  young  people,  with  that 
earnestness  of  religious  sentiment  which  one  finds  every- 
where in  Russia. 


292  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

DESCENDING    THE    VOLGA. 

WHEN  people  have  travelled  together  on  a  boat 
for  twenty-four  hours,  it  seems  as  though  they 
had  known  each  other  all  their  lives;  the  sun  rose  the 
next  morning  on  the  recently  formed  colony  with  as 
little  ceremony  as  though  it  had  already  shone  on  their 
united  heads  for  twenty  years.  D^miane's  first  im- 
pressions, on  awaking,  were  a  little  strange;  first,  he 
had  never  before  been  on  a  steamboat,  and  then,  he  had 
never  slept  with  so  many  about  him.  His  first  glance 
met  Madame  Mianofs  feet;  she  was  sleeping  calmly, 
exactly  as  if  she  were  in  her  ugly  house  with  columns ; 
simply  from  looking  at  her  slumber  one  understood 
how  very  little  the  idea  of  travelling  could  disturb  her. 
She  had  the  manner  of  a  person  who  had  passed  her 
existence  on  steamboat  divans,  and  who  had  learned 
how  to  derive  the  greatest  possible  comfort  from  them. 
Demiane  rose  and  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts;  it 
was  certainly  a  very  extraordinary  thing  to  be  sailing 
thus  towards  the  unknown  with  people  whom  he  hardly 
knew;  but  Russians  are  not  disturbed  by  such  unim- 
portant facts;  he  ended  by  clearly  recalling  all  that 
had  occurred  in  the  last  two  days,  and  looked 
around  for  his  violin-case.  It  was  within  hand's 
reach,  and  in  a  safe  place ;  then  he  was  anxious  about 
his  brother.  Neither  Victor  nor  little  He*l£ne  were  in 


MARKOF.  293 

the  saloon ;  De'miane  ascended  the  gangway  which  led 
on  deck,  and  the  first  object  which  struck  his  eyes  was 
a  white  silk  neck-handkerchief  which  he  had  seen  the 
day  before,  and  which,  for  the  moment,  covered  Made- 
moiselle Mianofs  head.  She  was  talking  with  Victor, 
and  they  both  seemed  very  much  engaged. 

"  What  are  you  plotting  there  ?  "  said  De'miane,  step- 
ping behind  and  surprising  them. 

Heldne  blushed  and  smiled,  and  Victor  began  to 
laugh. 

"  We  are  thinking  of  turning  the  boat  into  a  linen- 
shop.  Mademoiselle  Helene  proposes  to  occupy  the 
leisure  hours  of  the  voyage  in  mending  our  clothing, 
which  has  great  need  of  it." 

"Ah!  bah!"  said  the  young  artist,  indifferently,  as 
he  sat  down  on  a  folding-stool,  which  he  had  been  in 
search  of.  "Leave  such  trifles  alone.  Fingers  are 
made  to  play  the  piano  or  violin  !  " 

44  Mamma  and  myself  would  have  no  dresses  for  a 
long  while,"  said  Hdlene,  smiling,  "  if  I  adopted  your 
principles,  Monsieur  De'miane  !  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  voyage  ?  "  continued  the 
latter. 

"  I  am  pleased  with  it,  ah !  yes,  very  much  pleased ! 
How  many  times  have  I  not  looked  at  the  boats  descend- 
ing the  river  and  asked  myself  if  some  day  I  should 
not  do  the  same !  It  was  my  dream,  Monsieur  Demi- 
ane  !  I  am  going  now  towards  my  promised  land !  " 

"  Really?    What  is  the  name  of  your  promised  land?  " 

"  It  is  the  Caucasus,"  said  Helene,  clasping  her  hands 
together.  "I  have  dreamed  of  the  Caucasus  all  my 


294  MARK  OF. 

life.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  I  could  see  it,  I  should 
die  without  regretting  anything  !  " 

Demiane,  who  was  troubled,  rose  and  took  a  few  steps 
on  deck.  The  morning  wind  beat  against  Helene's 
white  silk  neck-handkerchief,  and  blew  from  time  to 
time  in  her  eyes  the  little  locks  of  brown  hair  which 
curled  softly  on  her  forehead.  The  young  girl's  eyes, 
which  were  turned  to  the  south,  looked  as  though  they 
would  pierce  the  horizon  and  divine  in  the  distance  the 
snowy  peak  of  Kazbek.  He  looked  at  her  with  that 
sort  of  kind  pity  which  sensible  people  feel  for  poets. 

"  Where  have  you  acquired  this  love  for  the  Cau- 
casus ?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  Lermontof,"  she  replied,  with  some  confusion ; 
4 1  have  read  and  re-read  his  verses  on  that  beautiful 
land,  and  I  dream  about  it  always.  Do  you  not  love  it  ? 
would  you  not  like  to  go  there  ?  " 

De*miane  made  a  brusque  movement. 

44  Would  you  really  go  there  if  I  asked  you  to  do  so  ?  " 
said  he,  with  a  singular  expression. 

"I — I  will  do  anything  you  wish,"  said  Helene, 
with  a  childlike  submission. 

"  We  will  go,  perhaps,"  continued  Demiane,  "I  have 
thought  about  it  for  a  long  time." 

44  You  have  never  said  anything  to  me  about  it  I  "  ex- 
claimed Victor,  much  astonished. 

44  It  is  an  idea  that  I  had  in  my  own  mind,"  the  young 
artist  replied,  coldly.  44 1  think  there  ought  to  be  some- 
thing to  do  there.  Artists  cannot  go  there  often  —  it 
is  so  far  away." 

44  It  costs  a  great  deal,"  observed  the  practical  man, 
the  banker  of  the  troupe. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  295 

"And  one  can  earn  a  great  deal  of  money  there," 
replied  Demiane,  triumphantly.  "  Moreover,  it  is  only 
a  visionary  plan.'' 

After  a  warm  day,  the  night  came  down  little  by  little 
on  the  widened  stream ;  the  right  bank,  which  is  high 
and  abrupt,  became  almost  black,  while  the  other, 
which  is  low  and  covered  with  meadows,  seemed  still 
to  retain  some  of  the  brightness  of  the  vanished  day. 
The  silver  stars  began  to  stud  the  sky  here  and  there, 
towards  the  blue  zenith,  and  a  grey-pinkish  fog  rose 
slowly  from  the  horizon,  obliterating  the  lines  and  con- 
fusing the  sombre  masses  of  the  distant  forests.  Of  a 
sudden,  at  a  turn  in  the  stream,  the  young  people,  who 
were  standing  on  the  deck,  uttered  together  a  joyful 
exclamation. 

"  Fireworks ! "  exclaimed  Demiane. 

"  An  illumination  !  "  cried  Helene. 

"The  port  of  Nijni-Novgorod,"  said  the  Captain, 
as  he  passed  behind  them. 

The  Volga  in  this  place  is  a  mile  and  a  quarter  wide  ; 
the  Oka,  which  joins  it  there,  divides  into  two  streams 
at  its  mouth,  and  separates  the  town  into  two  distinct 
parts.  The  cliffs  on  the  right  serve  as  a  shelter  for 
vessels  of  all  sizes,  and  on  the  opposite  side  the  old 
town  spreads  out  its  girdle  of  crenated  ramparts,  its 
many-colored  towers  and  its  churches,  which  are  as 
numerous  as  they  are  small  and  varied  in  their  archi- 
tecture. The  falling  night  hid  the  forms  and  only  let 
one  see  the  outlines  of  the  towers  and  gardens  on  the 
still  clear  western  sky,  but  the  port  was  a  wonder.  Each 
of  two  thousand  vessels  anchored  in  the  immense  gulf 


296  MA  UK  OF. 

carried  a  white  lantern  on  the  tops  of  their  masts  which 
were  of  various  heights;  the  signals  for  navigation 
were  marked  out  by  red  or  green  lanterns,  and  the 
bridge  which  united  the  banks  of  the  Oka,  was  illu- 
minated by  innumerable  carriages,  which  formed  a 
chain  of  light  between  the  two  towns,  which  are  so  dif- 
ferent in  form  and  in  appearance. 

No  words  could  describe  the  effect  of  the  lanterns 
suspended  in  the  air  on  invisible  masts,  and  which 
seemed  to  change  their  places  as  the  steamboat  slowly 
advanced  towards  the  port;  the  combinations  of  these 
aerial  lights  were  changed  every  moment,  charming  the 
eye  without  fatiguing  it  and  making  a  spectacle  that 
was  perhaps  unequalled  in  the  whole  world.  The  near 
approach  of  the  annual  fair  occasioned  the  large  num- 
ber of  vessels,  some  of  which  had  come  from  the  most 
distant  eastern  tributaries  of  the  Volga,  and  brought 
with  them  Tartars  who  were  half  civilized. 

Amid  a  hundred  other  ships  and  with  many  steam- 
whistles,  which  the  echoes  of  the  banks  repeated  in  the 
distance,  the  boat  made  itself  a  passage  and  landed  near 
the  bridge  of  the  Oka.  Our  friends  disembarked  and 
found  themselves  in  the  centre  of  a  bustling  crowd,  of 
many  diverse  elements,  in  which  no  single  man  was 
dressed  like  another,  and  where  they  heard  all  the 
languages  of  the  East  spoken,  and  even  Russ  ! 

"  It  is  a  dream ! "  said  little  Helene,  clinging  to 
Victor's  coat-sleeve.  "  It  is  like  a  tale  of  the  Arabian 
nights." 

"  Take  care  of  the  Forty  Thieves,"  said  Madame 
Mianof,  in  French;  "for  you  can  count  them  by  thous- 
ands here." 


MARKOF.  297 

From  their  h8tel,  which  overlooked  the  suburb  where 
the  fair  is  held,  the  travellers  had  the  strange  spectacle 
of  that  vast,  absolutely  black  space,  for  they  never 
light  it  in  any  way.  Crowning  the  stream  and  the 
river  which  were  illuminated  with  lights,  the  silence  of 
tliis  town,  which  is  dead  at  night,  and  so  noisy  and 
bustling  in  the  day,  contrasted  singularly  with  the 
animation  of  Nijni  properly  speaking,  which  at  that 
season  is  scarcely  ever  still  except  an  hour  or  two  every 
night,  just  before  the  sun  rises.  They  went  to  bed  and 
their  slumbers  were  cradled  by  the  distant  sounds  of 
the  strangest  instruments. 

The  first  concert,  which  was  promptly  arranged,  was 
not  a  particularly  brilliant  one ;  our  friends  who  were 
entirely  inexperienced  in  the  art  of  advertising,  thought 
it  was  sufficient  to  present  their  letters  of  introduction 
to  the  enlightened  amateurs  of  the  town.  The  latter 
gave  them  their  aid,  but  the  season  was  not  a  very 
favorable  one,  people  were  only  interested  in  the 
approaching  fair,  and  their  receipts  were  small. 

"  You  should  have  addressed  yourselves  to  the  large 
merchants,"  said  one  of  those  who  had  helped  them  in 
their  unsuccessful  concert ;  "  they  are  rich,  and  if  you 
could  have  said  something  to  them  which  would  have 
flattered  their  patriotism,  you  would  have  been  sure  of 
success.  They  are  tired  of  German  musicians;  you 
ought  to  have  made  them  understand  that  you  are  real 
Russians " 

"  Real  Russians  !  "  exclaimed  Victor,  "  indeed  we 
are  !  even  to  the  violin,  which  is  Russian ! " 

The  amateur  made  them  tell  him  the  story  of  the 
violin. 


298  MARK  OF. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  your  affair  is  settled.  Put  into 
your  advertisement  that  Monsieur  Markof  will  play  on 
a  Russian  violin,  which  was  made  in  Moscow  by  his 
brother  Victor  Markof,  and  then  go  this  very  evening 
to  the  Moskovski-Traktir,*  where  you  must  play  some- 
thing on  the  violin,  with  the  proprietor's  consent,  who 
will  be  delighted,  and  you  will  have  a  full  house  on 
Sunday." 

All  this  did  not  please  De'miane  very  much,  who 
disliked  trickery. 

"  I  am  not  good  at  beating  the  big  drum,"  said  he ; 
"  I  am  good  for  playing  anything  they  may  wish,  but  to 
make  an  advertisement  of  myself  with  what  I  consider 
as  sacred " 

"  You  must  not  give  concerts  in  the  provinces  then," 
said  the  amateur,  kindly. 

"  I  will  beat  the  big  drum,"  exclaimed  Victor,  with 
unusual  vivacity ;  "  I  must  be  good  at  something ! 
You  will  play,  Demiane,  and  I  will  have  the  advertise- 
ments printed ;  you  can  trust  yourself  to  me  !  " 

"  Don 't  forget  the  newspapers,"  said  the  amateur. 

"  All  that  will  belong  to  my  department ;  and  you, 
my  king's  son,  will  only  be  obliged  to  present  yourself 
before  the  public,  and  to  charm  its  soul." 

Therefore,  in  one  day,  Victor,  who  was  always 
very  active,  became  amazingly  shrewd.  This  meta- 
morphosis, which  is  less  astonishing  in  a  Russian,  than 
in  any  other,  on  account  of  the  instinctive  prudence 
and  the  commercial  spirit  which  is  innate  in  those  of 
his  nation,  had  been  in  readiness  for  a  long  time  in 

*  .Restaurant  of  Moscow. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  299 

advance,  and  had  only  been  delayed  from  the  want  of 
favorable  circumstances. 

Victor  had  for  a  long  while  meditated  about  the  r61e 
he  would  be  called  upon  to  play  with  his  brother ;  he 
had  realized  the  latter's  indifference  to  external  things. 

Demiane  knew  nothing  about  the  washerwoman's 
bills ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  when  he  was  obliged  to 
pay  her,  he  exacted  a  receipt  from  her,  which  at  first 
had  alarmed  the  poor  woman,  who  was  ignorant  of  the 
art  of  writing,  and  was  convinced  they  would  send  her 
to  prison  on  account  of  the  piece  of  paper,  signed  with 
a  cross.  Victor  had  said  to  himself  that  all  his  life 
henceforth  should  be  devoted  to  visiting  journalists, 
treating  with  the  owners  of  concert-rooms,  hunting  up 
artists,  etc ;  and  the  time  seemed  propitious  for  him  to 
enter  upon  his  new  career. 

Towards  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  two 
brothers  entered  the  Moskovski-Traktir,  a  superb  res- 
taurant, where  the  merchant  aristocracy  meet.  There 
is  scarcely  any  nobility  at  Nijni :  the  few  neighboring 
land-owners  who  try  to  pass  the  winter  there,  remain 
under  their  tents  and  bear  themselves  with  dignity. 
The  true  population  of  the  city,  excepting  the  employe's 
of  the  government  who  do  not  so  much  despise  the  mer- 
chants with  whom  they  have  business  every  day,  is 
composed  of  the  great  chiefs  of  commerce.  They  are 
men  who  wear  a  caftan  of  dark  blue  cloth,  a  fur  cap, 
and  knit  gloves  in  winter,  and  who  in  their  small 
shops  in  the  bazaar,  when  the  fair  is  opened,  turn  over 
millions  of  chests  of  tea,  whole  caravans  of  precious 
furs,  tons  of  Siberian  golden  ingots  and  bushels  of 


300  MARK  OF. 

pearls.  These  people  realize  their  commercial,  as  well 
as  their  personal  worth,  and  wish  to  be  treated  with 
proper  consideration  on  account  of  it.  They  know  that 
their  retirement  from  business,  should  they  take  a  fancy 
to  wind  up  their  affairs,  would  be  a  disaster  to  their 
country.  Without  ambition,  for  they  wish  neither 
rank  nor  brilliant  positions,  they  limit  themselves  to 
owning  everything:  railways,  manufactories,  canals, 
mines  and  capital ;  and  go  tranquilly  through  the 
streets  of  their  wooden  city,  bowing  to  each  other  half- 
way down  to  the  ground  when  they  meet,  and  keeping 
the  strictest  discipline  in  their  families. 

A  notable  part  of  this  Slite  of  the  population  is 
gathered  every  evening  at  the  Traktir  to  take  tea. 
Some  dine  there  —  the  widowers  and  the  bachelors; 
the  married  men  frequent  it  between  their  three  o'clock 
dinner,  and  their  nine  o'clock  supper.  There,  they 
arrange  their  business,  make  rendezvous,  and  some- 
times they  even  change  the  prices  of  merchandise,  and 
during  this  time,  the  waiters,  who  are  agile  and  quiet, 
run  from  one  table  to  another,  in  black  velvet  trousers, 
which  are  half  covered  by  a  shirt  of  red  cotton  material 
for  the  head  waiters,  and  white  ones  bordered  with  red 
for  the  others ;  their  hands  are  clean,  and  they  serve 
without  an  apron  or  napkin.  Their  steps  cannot  be 
heard  on  the  thick  carpet  that  covers  the  floor ;  and  a 
kind  of  solitude  is  assured  to  each  person  by  the 
arrangement  of  the  tables,  which  are  separated  by  parti- 
tions as  high  as  one's  shoulder,  and  two  hundred  people 
take  their  repasts  and  arrange  their  business  without 
making  any  more  noise  than  a  flock  of  partridges. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  301 

From  time  to  time  an  inspector  who  is  placed  at  the 
end  of  the  handsomest  room,  judges  when  the  moment 
is  propitious  for  regaling  the  guests  with  a  little  music, 
and  pulls  a  small  string.  A  magnificent  organ  eighteen 
or  twenty  feet  high,  then  bursts  forth  with  a  wonderful 
peal  and  plays  the  most  brilliant  pieces  from  the  most 
celebrated  operas,  and  above  all,  "Le  vie  pour  le  Tsar," 
which  is  as  popular  in  Russia,  as  La  Muette  was  for  a 
long  time  in  France. 

Our  friends  began  by  ordering  some  choice  viands 
among  the  most  expensive  dishes  and  paid  for  them 
at  once,  according  to  the  custom.  Then  Victor  care- 
lessly laid  on  the  table  the  violin  case,  which  was  quite 
new  and  shining,  and  which  attracted  the  attention 
of  his  neighbors.  After  a  few  moments,  a  large  man, 
clad  in  the  finest  cloth,  which  was  cut  in  a  long  caftan, 
after  the  antique  fashion  of  the  merchants,  approached 
the  young  men  and  sat  down  near  them. 

"  Permit  me  to  ask  you,"  said  he,  "if  there  is  a  violin 
in  that  case?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Victor,  seizing  the  opportunity  by  the 
horns,  "and  a  good  violin,  a  Russian  violin,  the  first 
that  has  been  made  in  Russia,  and  out  of  Russian  wood 
by  a  Russian  !  " 

"  Do  you  play  it  ?  "  said  the  merchant  without  sus- 
pecting the  humiliation  he  was  inflicting  on  Ddmiane 
by  this  simple  question.  Every  individual  who  attains 
celebrity,  even  in  a  small  way,  imagines  at  once  that 
his  name  and  face  are  known  throughout  the  universe, 
and  he  feels  a  bitter  disappointment  every  time  he 
perceives  how  much  of  the  universe  has  remained  a 
stranger  to  his  renown. 


302  M  ARKOF.  . 

"  It  is  my  brother  who  plays,"  said  Victor,  proudly 
pointing  to  Demiane.  "  A  Russian  artist  also ;  yes, 
gentlemen,"  said  the  hunchback,  addressing  himself 
to  the  crowd  which  had  formed  itself  by  degrees  around 
him ;  "  we  wish  nothing  except  what  is  national !  For 
too  long  a  time  have  we  sought  in  foreign  countries  our 
instruments,  our  artists  and  our  professors ;  Russia  pos- 
sesses all  that  she  needs  in  herself,  and  we  do  not  wish 
to  borrow  anything  more  from  people  who,  after  all,  are 
no  better  than  ourselves." 

"Was  it  you  who  gave  a  concert  the  other  evening?" 
said  a  new-comer  who  had  Observed  De*miane's  hand- 
some face  on  the  threshhold  of  the  Concert-hall. 

"It  was  I,"  replied  our  friend,  who  was  rather 
ashamed  of  the  flourishing  speech  to  which  his  brother 
had  just  given  utterance. 

"You  played  some  music  that  was  not  Russian?" 
observed  the  critic. 

"It  was  for  the  Germans  who  are  here,"  replied 
Victor  at  once.  "  You  are  not  in  need  of  Germans  in 
Nijni!  You  are  not  in  need  of  anything,  moreover; 
your  city  at  this  moment,  is  the  rendezvous  of  the  whole 
world."  . 

A  murmur  of  applause  ran  through  the  ranks  of  the 
audience,  which  had  now  become  crowded. 

"Imagine,"  continued  the  orator,  "that  they  have 
told  us  a  falsehood !  It  was  declared  to  us  that  you 
merchants  in  Nijni,  did  not  love  music  !  " 

"  How  very  stupid !  "  said  a  respectable  person,  with 
a  white  beard ;  "  why  then  should  we  have  that  great 
organ  there  ?  " 


M  A  R  K  O  F ' .  303 

"  Of  course,  it  is  stupid,"  continued  Victor  unmoved, 
44  but  they  told  us  so,  and  we  believed  it,  and  so  when 
we  learned  the  truth,  we  came  here  to  ask  your  help. 
Is  it  possible  that  you  would  refuse  to  aid  a  Russian 
artist  to  procure  himself  a  Russian  public  ?  We  wish 
to  give  a  second  concert,  and  this  time  we  will  play 
only  national  music ;  we  should  never  have  done  any- 
thing else ! " 

The  affair  thus  begun  could  not  fail  to  succeed ;  all 
the  merchants  who  were  present  offered  their  help  in 
various  ways,  and  De"miane  in  order  to  reward  them  for 
their  good  will,  showed  the"m  the  famous  Russian  violin 
and  played  them  a  brilliant  improvisation  on  popular 
themes,  which  delighted  everybody. 

On  returning  'to  their  hotel  near  ten  o'clock,  they 
hastened  to  knock  at  Madame  Mianof  s  door,  to  inform 
her  of  their  success ;  little  Helene  went  on  tip-toe  to 
open  it  for  them.  Her  mother  was  sleepy  and  they 
must  not  disturb  her.  A  conference  took  place  in  the 
half-lighted  corridor,  and  was  promptly  concluded  by 
these  words  that  issued  from  the  room  in  a  doleful 
tone: 

44  H£l£ne,  come  and  scratch  my  back,  I  can't  go  to 
sleep  without  it." 

44  Directly,  mamma,"  replied  the  young  girl.  44  When 
shall  we  rehearse  ?  "  she  asked  Ddmiane. 

44  To-morrow  at  one  o'clock,  in  the  large  room  of  the 
town-hall.  Is  your  mamma  in  the  habit  of  having  her 
back  scratched  ?  " 

44  She  never  goes  to  sleep  without  it,"  said  Hdlcne, 
disappearing,  at  another  order  from  her  mamma,  which 
was  less  doleful  and  more  imperative. 


304  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

Victor  and  De*miane  returned  to  their  room,  and  the 
former  on  the  way  there  expressed  this  irreverent  reflec- 
tion. 

"  I  am  not  astonished  that  little  HdlSne  should  have 
agile  fingers;  if  she  has  passed  her  life  in  scratching 
her  mother's  back,  they  must  indeed  have  gained  some 
flexibility." 

"  Bah ! "  said  De*miane,  "  there  are  a  great  many  per- 
sons who  have  the  soles  of  their  feet  scratched  in  order 
to  go  to  sleep  ! " 

Victor  shivered  all  over,  as  though  they  were  the 
soles  of  his  own  feet  that  were  being  scratched,  and 
then  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Well,  all  the  same,  we  have  a  concert  on  hand  that 
begins  well ! "  said  he.  "  Who  would  have  said  that  I 
had  the  making  of  an  orator  in  me  ?  " 

De*maine  smiled  condescendingly.  He  was  nothing 
loth  to  have  a  success,  provided  he  was  not  obliged  to 
prepare  the  way  for  it.  He  was  a  dilettante  in  pride. 


MARKOF.  305 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

FARTHER    STILL! 

TVHE  Russian  concert  succeeded  beyond  their  hopes. 
The  journals  had  talked  about  it,  the  merchants 
had  endorsed  it,  and  the  wives  of  these  gentlemen, 
who  never  leave  their  domestic  hearth,  had  obtained 
)ermission  to  make  use  of  the  tickets  their  husbands 
>ought,  which  occasioned  an  unusual  activity  in  the 
own.  Demiane  had  the  pleasure,  which  was  probably 
are,  of  seeing  before  him  a  feminine  audience  entirely 
;omposed  of  douchagre'ikas  in  silks  of  the  most  bril- 
iant  colors,  with  heads  surmounted  with  kerchiefs, 
>ne  end  of  which  hung  down  their  backs,  while  the 
wo  others,  folded  closely  together  under  their  chins, 
vere  joined  on  their  breasts.  And  it  must  not  be  sup- 
>osed  that  all  these  good  souls,  who  were  torn  from  the 
obscurity  of  their  homes,  did  not  know  how  to  appre- 
;iate  the  young  artist's  talent !  More  than  one  among 
hem,  in  listening  to  him,  recalled  the  time  when  as  a 
^oung  girl,  she  had  listened  to  the  nightingales  answer- 
ng  each  other  in  her  parents'  garden.  The  aspirations 
f  their  youth  returned  to  their  minds,  and  if  their 
syes  were  moist  with  tears,  it  was  not  perhaps,  only  on 
iccount  of  a  nervousness  produced  by  the  trembling  of 
lis  bow  on  the  strings.  In  the  simple  themes  of  the 
opular  songs  a  melancholy  poetry  is  hidden,  which  can 
)e  appreciated  by  those  alone  who  have  lived  a  contem- 
19 


306  HEREOF. 

plative  life  in  the  fields  or  in  the  old  Russian  home- 
steads, and  who  have  loved  it  and  felt  its  old-time 
beauty. 

Little  Helene,  who  was  attired  for  the  occasion  in  a 
plain,  white  muslin,  with  her  hair  divided  in  two  braids 
which  fell  on  her  shoulders,  which  were  modestly  cov- 
ered with  a  simple  thin  muslin  fichu,  received  an  ova- 
tion. She  was  so  simple,  so  childlike  in  manner,  that 
all  the  mothers  in  the  audience  were  touched  with  pity 
for  her. 

"  So  young,  and  already  earning  her  living ! "  said 
these  good  souls  to  themselves. 

Before  the  day  was  over,  she  found  her  room  filled 
with  presents  of  all  kinds ;  the  matrons  who  had  been 
touched  by  her  grace  and  her  seriousness,  sent  her  all 
manner  of  things :  pieces  of  stuffs,  old-fashioned  jewels, 
pieces  of  fine,  white  linen,  to  make  underclothing,  a 
box  of  oranges,  and  a  fur  pelisse ;  so  much  in  fact  that 
she  was  obliged  to  buy  a  trunk. 

"Ah!  Monsieur  Markof,"  said  she,  when  D^miane 
went  to  say  good-morning  to  her,  "  I  owe  all  this  to  you, 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  pay  the  debt ! " 

With  a  very  noble  wave  of  the  hand  the  artist  dis- 
claimed any  expectation  of  gratitude,  and  only  smiled; 
decidedly  the  little  girl  was  very  charming.  He  did 
not  know  whether  she  were  pretty  or  not — to  have 
been  sure  of  that  he  would  have  been  obliged  to  have 
looked  at  her  more  attentively  than  he  had  yet  done ; 
—  but  she  had  an  appreciation  of  the  proprieties  of  life 
which  rendered  living  in  common  with  her  easy  and 
even  agreeable.  Madame  Mianof  gave  but  little 


MARK  OF.  307 

trouble ;  with  tea,  cigarettes  and  cards,  they  were  sure 
to  have  perfect  peace  with  her ;  she  did  not  even  exact 
that  they  should  play  cards  with  her ;  in  her  calm, 
sleepy  state  she  preferred  to  play  patience,  which  leaves 
the  mind  free  to  stop  its  calculations  when  the  combi- 
nations become  too  exciting.  People  are  not  liable  to 
disease  of  the  heart  from  playing  patience. 

Victor  was  delighted.  The  happy  success  of  this  en- 
terprise seemed  to  promise  him  a  series  of  concerts  in 
the  future  which  would  be  finer  each  than  the  other, 
and  by  which  Ddmiaiie  would  become  illustrious  and 
rich.  They  had,  moreover,  resolved  together  to  send 
Father  Kouzma  a  little  souvenir  in  the  form  of  some 
money,  and  this  resolution  gave  them  a  calm  joy  which, 
in  spite  of  what  may  be  said  to  the  contrary,  accom- 
panies generous  thoughts.  The  two  brothers  vaguely 
felt  that  from  the  moment  their  sister  held  the  purse- 
strings,  their  father  could  not  roll  in  gold.  So,  Mon- 
sieur Roussof  was  commissioned,  the  next  day,  to  remit 
discreetly  to  the  priest  the  relatively  large  sum  which 
his  sons  sent  to  him ;  it  was  done  in  a  way  to  satisfy 
everyone,  for  without  having  said  anything  about  it, 
they  well  understood  that  the  gift  was  to  be  sent  and 
accepted  in  silence,  under  the  penalty  of  immediately 
losing  its  value. 

The  letter  which  bore  the  souvenir  from  Kouzma's 
children  to  the  paternal  home,  crossed  one  written  by 
Monsieur  Roussof,  which  brought  surprising  news  to 
the  young  men.  The  physician  of  the  baths  at  Piati- 
gorsk  having  died  suddenly,  his  place  had  been  offered 
to  Valerien  Moutine,  and  after  some  hesitation,  the 


308  MARKOF. 

young  physician  had  accepted  it.  Without  doubt,  it 
was  hard  to  be  thus  banished  from  home  for  several 
years,  but  the  salary  offered  was  considerable,  and  in 
the  end  the  wealth  which  the  presence  of  rich  invalids 
brings  to  watering  places,  would  permit  the  young 
couple  to  realize  in  a  short  time,  a  competency  which 
would  be  very  like  a  fortune.  They  had,  therefore, 

decided  to  leave  M ,  and  when  Monsieur  Roussof 

wrote  they  were  already  half  way  on  their  journey. 

D^miane  read  the  letter  and  became  thoughtful. 
Superstitious  as  is  almost  every  one,  he  saw  in  this 
coincidence  of  departures  for  the  Caucasus,  a  myster- 
ious force  which  urged  him  also  towards  the  mountains 
of  the  South. 

"  Madame  Moutine  is  going  to  Piatigorsk,"  said  he  to 
Victor  when  the  latter  returned  from  his  morning 
errands. 

The  poor  fellow's  arms  fell.  He  seldom  saw  the  idol  of 
his  }7outh,  but  she  was  not  so  far  away  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  it  was  possible  to  see  her  should  he  wish  to  do 
so  very  much ;  but  to  the  Caucasus !  in  a  distant  coun- 
try !  The  tears  came  to  his  eyes  at  the  thought. 

"  Would  you  have  us  go  and  see  her  ?  "  said  Ddmiane 
half  smiling.  His  brother  looked  at  him  with  astonish- 
ment. He  had  long  ago  quite  forgotten  the  Princess 
Redine's  letter  and  could  not  tind  any  cause  whatever 
for  this  mention  of  the  Caucasus  to  which  the  artist 
now  referred  for  the  second  time. 

'  "  So  far  ?  "  said  he  faintly,  as  though  he  were  combat- 
ing within  himself  the  desire  of  going  to  join  Groucha 
beyond  the  Caspian  sea. 


M  A  II  K  O  F  .  30£ 

"  Why  not  ?  She  goes  there,  and  many  others  as 
(well!  We  will  not  be  the  first  explorers  of  a  virgin 
I  country,"  said  Ddmiane,  with  his  eyes  cast  down,  and 
j  play  ing  with  the  envelope  of  the  letter.  "  We  will  give 
another  concert  at  Saratof,  another  at  Astrakhan,  per- 
haps,—  if  the  sturgeon  fishermen  are  fond  of  music  — 
and  we  will  remain  half  the  summer  at  Piatigorsk.  I 
am  sure  there  is  a  good  orchestra  there ;  only  think !  it 
is  the  summer  residence  of  the  Grand  Duke,  the  Gov- 
ernor General  of  the  Caucasus!  There  is  a  mine  of 
gold  in  that  place." 

Victor  was  much  surprised  at  hearing  his  brother 
talk  from  this  practical  point  of  view,  he  who  ordinarily 
occupied  himself  so  little  with  business,  but  his  sur- 
prises never  lasted  very  long,  thanks  to  his  unconscious 
philosophy,  which  made  him  accept  all  accomplished 
facts  with  resignation. 

"  Then,  you  wish  to  go  to  Piatigorsk?  " 

Demiane  ceased  playing  with  the  envelope  ;  his  hand, 
which  rested  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  trembled  slightly 
and  then  remained  motionless.  He  looked  within  him- 
self and  decided  his  life.  They  tell  us  that  we  some- 
times hold  our  destiny  in  our  own  hands,  and  that  at 
certain  hours  it  belongs  to  ourselves  to  choose  our  path. 
It  was  true  at  this  moment  with  regard  to  the  young 
artist,  and  he  felt  it,  not  confusedly,  as  it  sometimes 
happens,  but  very  clearly.  He  knew  that  in  approach- 
ing the  Princess,  he  was  breaking  with  his  past  life ;  he 
had  realized  that  this  woman,  whatever  her  real  feel 
ings  might  be,  had  manifested  no  ordinary  interest  in 
him  ;  he  said  to  himself  that  perhaps  she  had  forgotten 
him ;  but  he  was  sure  of  not  being  indifferent  to  her 


310  MARKOF. 

on  the  day  when  she  should  see  him  again.  Should  he 
throw  himself  headlong  into  a  new  passion  or  remain 
tranquilly  in  the  beaten  track,  to  wait  till  chance  might 
come  and  draw  him  from  it?  De*miane  had  in  himself 
as  much  of  the  calculator  as  of  the  poet,  and  the  two 
roads  seemed  equally  dangerous :  his  twenty  years,  the 
memory  of  the  Princess'  eyes,  of  her  magical  voice,  of 
all  her  bewildering  and  fascinating  person,  gained  the 
upper  hand,  and  in  a  firm  voice,  he  said : 

"  I  wish  to  go  to  Piatigorsk." 

"  It  is  an  excellent  idea !  "  exclaimed  Victor.  "  For 
my  part — " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and,  in  quite  a  different  tone, 
said: 

"  What  will  we  do  with  little  H&ene  ?  " 

"  If  she  will  come  with  us  as  far  as  Saratof,  I  shall 
be  very  glad;  it  is  a  town  full  of  enthusiastic  musi- 
cians; there  must  be  a  good  harvest  to  glean  there. 
After  that,  she  will  be  free  to  return  to  her  home." 

"  Or  to  come  with  us  ?  "  suggested  Victor,  timidly. 

He  was  attached  to  the  young  girl;  the  idea  of 
leaving  her  so  soon  made  him  sad. 

"  Or  else  to  come  with  us  !  "  replied  Demiane,  indif- 
ferently. "  She  accompanies  very  well,  and  she  is  not 
in  the  least  in  the  way.  It  is  just  as  though  we  were 
still  alone." 

"  Only  our  socks  have  no  more  holes  in  them,"  re- 
marked Victor,  "  and  that  is  certainly  something." 

"  Is  it  she  who  mends  them  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  suppose  it  is  her  mamma?" 

The  two  brothers  laughed,  and  thus  the  journey  to 
Piatigorsk  was  decided  upon. 


MARKOF.  311 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

TRIBULATIONS. 


y°u  ^ink  me  in  Moscow,  occu- 
pied  in  making  violins  or  even  altos,  and 
further,  in  my  leisure  moments,  that  I  am  perfecting 
Petit-Gris'  education  ?  It  is  a  mistake  !  I  dwell  on  the 
banks  of  the  Don,  and  I  have  found  my  pastures  and 
my  buffaloes  again,  but  not  my  steward,  for  the  good 
man  is  dead,  and  behold  me,  at  last  the  proprietor  of 
the  property  which  my  poor  dear  uncle  —  may  God 
Vave  pity  on  his  soul  !  —  believes  me  to  be  in  possession 
of  since  the  day  of  his  death.  I  have  said  to  myself 
more  than  once  that  the  ancients,  who  discovered  Lethe, 
were  not  so  stupid  after  all  ;  if  in  the  other  world  one 
remembers  what  one  has  desired  during  one's  life  time, 
and  if  one  can  see  the  way  in  which  others  conduct 
themselves  in  regard  to  one's  last  wishes,  one  must  get 
into  a  very  bad  temper;  and  then  what  is  to  be  done 
with  the  eternal  delights  of  Paiadise  ?  But  it  is  not  in 
order  to  discuss  this  question  that  I  have  taken  up  my 
pen,  but  it  is  to  tell  you  of  my  annoyance. 

"  Yes,  my  friends,  I  am  the  most  annoyed  man  on  the 
face  of  the  globe,  and  the  cause  of  my  annoyance  is 
sixteen  years  old,  and  has  blonde  hair  —  which  is  always 
in  a  tangle  —  blue  eyes,  which  are  always  full  of  tears, 
and  red  hands  and  bare  feet,  which  walk  in  the  dust 
and  seem  to  ridicule  my  boots  most  bitterly. 


312  MARK  OF. 

"Imagine  that  my  old  thief  of  a  steward  had  a 
daughter.  I  think  I  have  entertained  you  before  with 
an  account  of  this  original  person,  who  built  himself  a 
cathedral  with  my  cheese  and  who  nourished  me  parsi- 
moniously with  the  waste  bits  of  his  work,  and  I  think 
I  even  told  you  that  he  had  some  sort  of  child  or  other. 
This  daughter  is  the  young  lady  described  above,  whom 
I  found  on  coming  here  tuned  to  the  highest  diapason 
and  ready  to  poniard  me.  The  old  rogue  had  left  this 
innocent  with  the  idea  that  my  property  belonged  to 
her.  That  he  developed  this  thought,  I  do  not  suppose ; 
it  had  its  birth  in  Mademoiselle  Mouza's  odd  brain,  and 
he  did  nothing  to  drive  it  out,  perhaps  he  never  knew 
anything  about  it.  The  worthy  man  died  suddenly  the 
other  day, — from  drinking  too  much  I  have  been  told, 
—  and  the  law,  which  is  slow  in  all  countries,  and  par- 
ticularly so  on  the  fortunate  banks  of  the  Don,  came  in 
the  person  of  its  officers  and  put  seals  on  what  belongs 
to  me. 

" 4  Seals  ? '  exclaimed  Mouza,  '  what  are  they  ?  I  do 
not  want  any  of  them  ! ' 

"They  put  them  on,  however,  and  as  one  might 
expect,  gave  them  into  the  keeping  of  my  steward's 
daughter.  What  might  equally  have  been  expected 
was,  that  my  young  savage,  who  had  never  heard  tape 
or  sealing-wax  spoken  of  in  all  her  life,  lost  no  time  in 
removing  all  the  little  strings  which  prevented  her 
acting  as  she  pleased  in  her  house. 

"  Pray  note  well,  my  friends,  that  this  house  was 
undoubtedly  hers,  no  one  during  her  father's  life  time 
having  suggested  the  contrary  to  her. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  313 

"  Thereupon  I  arrived,  and  I  found  the  young  person 
on  the  threshold,  and  she  welcomed  me  with  a :  c  What 
have  you  come  here  for  ? '  which  was  not  in  the  least 
pleasing. 

" 4 1  come,'  said  I  to  her,  *  to  take  possession  of  my 
domain.' 

"  She  laughed  in  my  face  and  said  to  me : 

"  4  You  shall  not  enter.' 

"I  wished  to  put  her  aside,  when  she  drew  out  a 
very  pretty  knife  and  handled  it  so  dexterously  that 
she  cut  as  nicely  as  possible  a  great  gash  in  the  palm  of 
her  hand.  The  knife  fell,  and  she  began  to  cry;  I 
wished  to  approach  her  and  received  a  hard  blow  from 
her  fist  on  my  nose,  which  I  still  feel  when  I  shut  my 
eyes. 

"However,  we  had  entered,  which  was  something 
gained,  and  my  pretty  enemy's  maid,  who  was  better 
informed  with  regard  to  the  situation,  had  dragged  my 
small  valise  into  the  house.  I  was  in  the  heart  of  the 
place,  but  the  question  was,  how  to  remain  there  ? 

"  Mouza  sat  down  in  a  corner,  looking  at  me  with  a 
gloomy  air,  while  I  was  rummaging  a  little  every- 
where. The  breaking  of  the  seals  amused  me  greatly; 
and,  thanks  to  my  rhetoric,  I  proved  to  the  authorities 
that  if  the  little  one  had  acted  without  discernment, 
they  had  not  evinced  much  more  in  placing  them  in  the 
keeping  of  a  person  as  little  capable  of  protecting 
them  as  a  young  unchained  monkey;  and  as  I  made  no 
appeal,  the  affair  was  easily  arranged. 

"  But  I  had  only  begun  my  apprenticeship.  When  I 
asked  Mademoiselle  Mouza  what  she  was  going  to  do, 
she  looked  at  me  alarmed. 


314  MARK  OF. 

" '  Remain  here,'  she  replied. 

444  Always?' 

44  4  Always.' 

44  4  Are  you  not  going  away  soon  ? ' 

44 1  had  less  intention  of  leaving  because  my  prop- 
erty is  an  excellent  one  and  in  good  condition.  I 
suspect  Mademoiselle  Mouza's  father  of  having  placed 
on  his  daughter's  head  at  least  thirty  thousand  roubles, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  was  refusing  himself  nothing. 

44  The  old  man  had  a  notary — a  lawyer — in  a  word,  a 
man  of  business,  whose  paw  he  had  very  well  greased 
during  his  lifetime,  and  who  takes  care  not  to  say  more 
than  is  necessary.  I  sent  for  him  in  order  to  escape 
from  this  dilemma.  He  told  me  that  Mouza  had  enough 
to  live  on  from  her  mother's  property — her  mother 
was  a  peasant  —  and  that  she  could  go  wherever  she 
pleased.  She  has  no  relations,  no  friends,  and  no 
acquaintances  whatever. 

44  4  Will  you  take  her  away  with  you,'  said  I  to  the 
notary. 

444 1  ask  nothing  better,'  he  replied,  winking  his 
mind's  eye,  4  my  wife  will  take  charge  of  her,  and  I  will 
look  after  her  fortune.' 

44  But  when  it  came  to  a  question  of  leaving,  Mouza 
clung  to  the  door,  declaring  she  would  rather  die  than 
leave  the  old  house. 

44  4  Let  her  remain,'  said  I  to  the  notary,  who  did  not 
seem  pleased.  Mouza  threw  me  a  look  that  was  half- 
sullen,  half-grateful. 

44  The  idea  that  I  am  the  master  will  doubtless  enter 
her  head  some  day;  in  the  meanwhile  her  maid  does 


MARKOF.  315 

my  house-keeping,  for  you  will  easily  understand  that 
I  have  not  brought  any  servants  with  me. 

"  Mouza  occupies  the  left  wing  and  I  the  right ;  we 
have  got  as  far  as  eating  together,  thanks  to  the  maid's 
persuasions,  who  did  not  wish  to  cook  two  different 
meals  and  who  won  her  cause  —  and  I  ask  myself  how 
long  this  is  going  to  last? 

44  This,  my  dear  friends,  is  how  I  am  situated  at 
present,  and  I  would  much  like  to  see  you  in  my  place ! 
Write  me  what  you  would  do  if  you  were  in  a  similar 
predicament;  not  that  I  expect  the  least  help,  your 
experience  of  life  not  being  superior  to  my  own ;  but 
the  stupid  tilings  you  will  tell  me,  will  perhaps  throw 
some  light  on  my  mind.  At  all  events  I  cordially 
clasp  your  hands. 

44  Your  friend, 

ANDRE  LADOF. 

44  P.  S. —  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  from  henceforth, 
my  wants  being  taken  into  consideration,  I  shall  be  as 
rich  as  Cro3sus.  If,  in  your  travels,  you  can  come  and 
make  me  a  visit,  I  hope  by  that  time  that,  through 
some  miracle  of  our  excellent  Providence,  I  shall  be 
delivered  from  my  bare-footed  kobold." 

The  perusal  of  this  letter  made  De'miane  nearly  die 
with  laughter.  The  thought  of  seeing  his  friend  Andre*, 
who  was  so  positive,  so  skeptical  and  so  philosophical, 
at  war  with  this  little  girl  who  was  as  intangible  as  a 
will-of-the-wisp,  seemed  to  him  extremely  comical. 

Victor,  who  was  less  given  to  raillery,  thought  Ladof 
was  very  much  to  be  pitied.  Madame  Mianof  was 


316  MARK  OF. 

rather  indifferent  to  this  story,  as  it  did  not  concern 
her  directly.  However,  she  played  several  games  of 
patience  in  order  to  discover  whether  Ladof  would  get 
rid  of  his  domestic  imp,  and  the  cards  being  consulted 
having  answered  "no"  as  many  times  as  "yes,"  she 
ceased  to  question  fate  in  regard  to  a  thing  that  was  so 
little  worthy  of  interest. 

Little  Helene  took  the  matter  differently. 

"  The  poor  child,"  said  she.  "  I  understand  that  her 
mind  must  be  all  upset !  Her  father  was  very  culpable 
not  to  have  given  her  more  proper  notions  about  the 
future  which  was  in  store  for  her." 

"  It  was,  you  see,  because  he  did  not  expect  to  die  so 
suddenly,"  said  Victor  with  a  naive td  which  provoked 
the  mirth  of  all  present. 

"She  must  be  dreadfully  unhappy!"  continued 
Helene,  folding  her  little  hands  over  the  sock  she 
was  mending;  "she  has  lost  everything  at  once:  her 
father  and  her  property,  since  she  thinks  it  belongs  to 
her,  the  loves  of  her  whole  life  —  it  is  a  complete  des- 
truction of  all  that  surrounds  her,  nothing  is  left  her 
but  ruins!  I  pity  her  very  much — very  much!"  she 
repeated,  as  she  shook  her  head  and  took  up  her  work 
again. 

"  You  reason  like  a  little  woman,  Mademoiselle 
Helene,"  said  Victor;  "  where  did  you  learn  all  that?'* 

She  smiled  and  shook  her  head  again.  Since  her 
departure  from  Jaroslav,  she  had  not  been  so  sad,  but 
perhaps  more  solemn.  A  new  responsibility  had 
entered  into  her  life,  since  she  had  become  the  accom- 
panist of  De'miane's  concerts.  Little  H61Sne  had  one 


M  A  II  K  O  F  .  317 

of  those  souls  to  which  every  thing  is  serious,  and  who 
never  look  upon  any  duty  whatever,  without  a  sort  of 
alarm  at  not  being  able  to  perform  it  properly. 

"We  leave  to-morrow,  do  we  not?"  said  she  to 
De'miane,  who  was  looking  vacantly  out  of  the  window. 

Victor  arranged  all  the  details  of  their  life,  but  she 
always  addressed  herself  to  Dlmiane,  without  thinking 
that  she  did  so. 

"  To-morrow  ?  —  Yes.  Have  you  decided  to  come 
with  us?" 

Helene  looked  at  her  mother,  then  at  the  sock  she 
was  mending,  and  then  at  Demiane  again. 

"If  it  will  not  incommode  you,"  said  she  hesita- 
tingly. 

"  As  far  "as  the  Caucasus  ?  Think  well  about  it,  it 
will  be  for  the  whole  season." 

"  If  it  will  not  incommode  you,"  she  repeated,  in  a 
sad  and  submissive  tone. 

"  Incommode  me  !  There  can  be  no  possibility  of  it. 
I  have  repeatedly  told  you  that  I  shall  never  have  such 
an  accompanist  as  yourself.  It  depends  entirely  on 
you." 

"  Let  us  go  there,  Hdlene,"  said  Madame  Mianof,  as 
she  shuffled  her  cards,  which  would  not  mix  properly. 

This  conversation  had  taken  place  at  Saratof  where 
our  friends  had  passed  a  week  in  a  musical  orgie,  of 
which  the  amateurs  of  the  place  were  not  yet  weary ; 
but  the  artists  felt  a  real  need  of  rest  after  this  excess 
of  harmony.  It  was  the  place  where  they  would  be 
obliged  to  separate,  if  they  were  not  positively  to  take 
the  route  together  for  the  Caucasus. 


318  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  As  you  wish,  mamma,"  replied  the  young  girl,  as 
she  busied  herself  in  mending  a  very  small  hole  in  the 
seam  of  the  sock. 

"  Then,  Victor,  go  and  secure  four  places,"  said 
Ddmiane,  turning  to  his  brother ;  "  the  boat  leaves  to- 
morrow morning." 

"  All  aboard,  travellers  for  the  Caucasus ! "  cried 
Victor,  waving  his  hat  triumphantly  above  his  head. 

Since  the  feminine  element  had  been  added  to  their 
society  he  was  wonderfully  happy.  Little  Heltjne  re- 
minded him  of  Madame  Moutine,  he  kept  constantly 
saying,  in  order  to  explain  his  delight.  To  tell  the 
truth,  there  did  not  exist  the  least  resemblance  between 
the  two  young  women :  Groucha  was  tall  and  imposing ; 
Helene  was  short  and  slender ;  the  former's  face  was 
round,  a  little  flat,  and  remarkable  for  unusual  fairness 
of  complexion ;  the  latter's  was  oval,  with  a  clear  olive 
paleness ;  and  they  differed  in  everything  else,  and  yet 
Victor  insisted  on  proclaiming  their  resemblance.  He 
was  right  on  one  point,  and  that  was  something  which 
the  others  could  not  see  :  The  sweet  gentleness  in  the 
two  young  women's  eyes,  the  tender  compassion  of 
their  look,  the  kindness  of  their  smile,  and  a  great 
wealth  of  patience  and  of  resignation,  gave  to  both  of 
them  a  similar  expression ;  it  was  not  their  faces  that 
resembled  each  other,  but  their  souls. 

When  the  evening  came  D^miane  went  to  take  a  turn 
in  the  Assemble  e  de  la  Noblesse,  where  a  soire'e  was 
given;  he  wished  to  say  good-bye  generally  to  all 
those  who  had  shown  him  kindness  during  his  sojourn 
at  Saratof.  The  ladies  and  Victor  remained  at  home 


MARKOF.  319 

in  order  to  make  the  preparations  for  their  journey. 
Just  as  the  latter  was  going  to  close  the  trunk  which 
contained  their  effects,  he  saw  Helene  enter  the  room 
with  her  arms  full  of  underwear.  She  looked  embar- 
rassed and  her  voice  was  unsteady. 

"  Monsieur  Victor,"  said  she,  "  I  want  to  ask  you 
something." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  Mademoiselle  Helene." 

"  I  want  you  to  put  this  in  your  brother's  trunk." 

"  We  have  only  one,"  answered  Victor,  naively. 

"  I  would  like  him  to  use  these  shirts  which  are  here. 
But  you  must  tell  him  that  it  was  you  who  had  them 
made  for  him  !  " 

Victor  examined  the  underwear,  which  the  young 
girl  had  laid  on  the  table  near  the  light. 

"  What  magnificent  linen  ! "  said  he,  with  astonish- 
ment. "  It  is  as  fine  as  cambric  !  What  does  this  all 
mean  ?  " 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  she,  overcoming  her  embar- 
rassment, "  a  lady  at  Nijni  gave  me  a  piece  of  linen  to 
make  me  some  underwear,  but  I  have  no  need  of  any, 
and  then  it  is  too  handsome  for  me  !  While  a  young 
man,  an  artist,  can  never  be  too  well  dressed ;  so  I  had 
a  dozen  shirts  made  here ;  they  work  very  well  at  Sar- 
atof.  I  think  they  will  fit  him  very  nicely." 

"  How  can  you  know  that?" 

"I  took  a  pattern  when  I  was  mending  the  under- 
wear," stammered  Helene,  who  was  as  ashamed  as  if 
she  had  been  caught  in  the  act  of  theft,  —  "  and  I  sup- 
pose these  will  not  fit  any  the  worse  ?  " 

Victor  looked  at  the  young  girl,  who  shunned  his 


320  MARK  OF. 

eyes ;  then  suddenly  he  caught  her  by  the  shoulders 
and  kissed  her  heartily  on  each  cheek  without  her 
trying  to  repel  him. 

"  O !  my  sister  Helene,"  said  he  in  a  voice  full  of 
emotion,  "  we  love  our  De'miane  well,  do  we  not?  We 
are  ready  to  make  every  sacrifice  for  him  in  order  that 
he  may  be  happy  ?  " 

She  made  an  affirmative  sign  with  her  head,  and  two 
burning  tears  which  she  could  not  restrain  ran  down  on 
her  hands,  which  Victor  had  grasped. 

"You  love  him  as  much  as  I  do,"  continued  the 
young  man,  who  was  seeking  eagerly  on  the  young 
girl's  face  what  she  was  endeavoring  in  vain  to  hide ; 
"and  I  have  loved  him  from  his  cradle — You  play 
with  him,  and  for  him,  as  you  play  for  no  other ;  I  have 
heard  you  accompany  amateurs,  and  it  is  not  in  the 
same  way !  He  is  a  god  in  your  eyes,  is  he  not,  my 
sister  Hel&ne  ?  You  would  like  to  tear  your  heart  from 
your  breast  and  put  it  under  his  feet,  to  keep  him 
warm  when  he  goes  out  in  the  snow?  You  love  him 
both  as  your  child,  and  as  your  master,  enough  to  for- 
give him  for  never  having  looked  at  you,  for  not 
knowing  when  you  are  present,  and  for  not  suspecting 
that  you  love  him?  " 

She  nodded  her  head  forcibly,  and  her  tears  fell 
faster  and  hotter. 

"I  know  very  well  how  people  love,"  continued 
Victor,  who  was  suddenly  enlightened  with  regard  to 
what  was  taking  place  in  his  heart  by  the  pain  he  felt ; 
"  but  I  am  only  a  poor  hunchback,  and  I  have  no  right 
to  love.  We  will  both  love  him,  will  we  not,  sister 


MARKOF.  321 

H£lene,  and  when  he  is  unhappy,  we  will  be  the  ones 
who  will  console  him,  who  will  heal  the  pain  that  others 
may  inflict  upon  him  ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Helene,  in  a  low  voice;  then,  freeing 
herself  quickly,  she  hid  her  head  on  Victor's  shoulder, 
who  gently  caressed  her  stray  locks  of  hair. 

"  It  is  agreed,"  said  he,  when  after  a  second  she 
raised  her  head  and  wiped  her  eyes.  "  I  will  tell  him, 
it  was  I  who  had  the  shirts  made  for  him." 

"I  beg  you  to  do  so,"  she  murmured,  with  the  most 
touching  look. 

"  And  he  will  not  know  what  you  have  done  for  him ; 
that  is  right !  that  is  the  way  to  love." 
20 


322  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 
CLEOPATRE'S    PRINCIPLES. 

fTTHE  music  was  playing  in  the  garden  of  the  Bathing 
JL  Establishment  at  Piatigorsk,  and  those  of  the 
invalids  whose  health  permitted  them  to  walk  about, 
were  enjoying  the  beauty  of  the  afternoon.  The  blue 
shadows  of  the  great  mountains  descended  on  all  sides 
into  the  valleys,  where  the  sun  had  thrown  its  beams 
even  into  the  beds  of  the  streams,  and  their  coolness 
refreshed  both  plants  and  men,  after  the  heat  of  a  July 
day. 

Though  one  may  be  in  the  Caucasus,  in  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  countries,  a  hundred  leagues  away  from 
the  West  and  from  the  life  of  the  world,  a  watering 
place  is  never  anything  but  a  watering  place.  People 
wear  the  same  costumes  there,  and  bring  with  them 
the  same  vices,  and  carry  thence  the  same  impressions, 
that  they  would  from  any  watering  place  in  France  or 
in  Germany.  What  does  it  matter  after  all  that  the 
delicate  faces  of  the  Tcheremesses,  with  their  black 
mustaches  and  gazelle-like  eyes,  should  have  replaced 
the  flat  visages  of  the  kellners  or  the  pomade-covered 
heads  of  garfons?  Who  looks  at  the  faces  of  these 
docile  objects  of  common  necessity,  and  who  looks  at 
the  landscape,  after  the  first  two  days,  when  it  is 
agreed  that  every  one  should  be  enthusiastic  about 
nature  ? 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  323 

And,  apropos,  people  are  unaware,  perhaps,  how  very 
dangerous  it  is  not  to  be  enthusiastic  about  nature  at 
the  hours  and  on  the  days  when  it  is  proper  to  be  so. 
Evil  be  to  the  person  who,  preoccupied  with  some 
sorrow,  some  physical  or  moral  suffering,  neglects  to 
celebrate  the  splendor  of  the  stars  of  night  or  the 
charms  of  the  forests,  when  others  think  it  is  right  to 
be  enraptured  with  them.  The  unfortunate  man  and 
poet  who,  with  liberal  hands,  should  have  poured  the 
overflow  of  his  soul  into  his  pictures,  into  his  music,  or 
into  his  poems,  would  be  accused  of  having  a  cold  heart, 
of  remaining  indifferent  to  the  beauties  of  nature,  and 
of  being  apparently  enthusiastic  through  a  frightful 
duplicity  only,  and,  to  use  a  word  of  Parisian  slang,  of 
"doing  the  chic"  which  all  are  aware  is  the  utmost 
degree  of  ignominy. 

The  Princess  Rcdine,  on  the  first  day  of  her  arrival, 
and  even  on  the  next  day,  had  sung  the  obligatory 
hymn  to  the  old  mountains ;  this  formality  when  accom- 
plished set  her  mind  quite  free,  and  she  at  once  organ- 
ized her  household  on  the  most  proper  footing.  She 
lived  in  a  beautiful  villa,  ornamented  with  sloping 
gardens,  with  rocks,  springs,  trees,  lawns,  and  whatever 
constitutes  an  aristocratic  dwelling.  She  gave  good 
dinners  three  or  four  times  a  week,  showed  herself  very- 
severe  on  the  subject  of  women,  and  only  admitted  to 
her  house  those  distinguished  for  virtues,  which  were 
proved  either  by  their  age,  or  their  ugliness,  or  else  by 
an  insignificance  which  sheltered  them  from  all  sus- 
picion. In  the  way  of  men,  she  received  almost  every 
•  one,  for  the  very  simple  reason  that  it  is  easy,  by  a 


324  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

thousand  pretexts,  not  to  receive  a  man  any  longer, 
whom  one  does  not  wish  to  see,  whereas  with  women, 
one  makes  for  oneself  many  bitter  enmities  by  adopting 
that  style  of  behavior.  The  Princess  Cle'opatre  at 
Moscow  would  only  receive  the  women  of  her  own 
society,  and  the  practice  of  this  principle  made  many 
poor  little  wives  of  officers  and  functionaries  pass  many 
solitary  evenings,  as  they  were  banished  from  the  Eden 
where  a  dress-coat  alone  had  the  freedom  of  the  city. 

The  Princess  Cldopatre  had  just  been  overlooking  the 
installation  of  the  Prince  in  the  shadiest,  the  coolest,  the 
most  perfumed  place  in  all  the  garden  of  the  Bathing 
Establishment ;  it  was  a  duty  which  she  entrusted  to  no 
one  else.  The  Prince  had  some  good  cigars  within  hand's 
reach,  and  his  own  valet-de-chambre  read}^  to  satisfy  all 
his  demands ;  further,  he  looked  as  though  he  were  quite 
contented  with  his  lot,  and  it  was  therefore  allowable 
that  his  wife  should  take  a  moment  of  respite,  after 
having  displayed  so  much  zeal  for  the  well-being  of  her 
husband.  So  she  went  about  quite  easy  in  her  con- 
science, with  the  indifferent  manner  which  was  peculiar 
to  her,  and  with  that  dignity  of  carriage  and  of  manner 
which  placed  her  far  above  all  criticism,  whether  favor- 
able or  otherwise.  Count  Raben  walked  by  her  side ; 
they  scarcely  spoke,  having  said  too  much  to  each  other 
for  a  common-place  conversation  to  interest  them. 

The  position  Count  Raben  held  vis-a-vis  to  Cleopatre 
was  a  singular  one  ;  she  had  characterised  it  herself  one 
day  in  these  words:  —  "You  came  too  early  on  this 
earth,  or  else  I  came  too  late  ;  you  have  gained  worldly 
knowledge,  and  you  judge  me  before  loving  me,  which 
is  something  I  cannot  permit." 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  325 

"  Do  you  wish  people  to  adore  you  with  their  eyes 
shut  ?  "  the  diplomatist  had  asked. 

"  Mon  cher,  when  people  adore,  it  is  always  with  their 
eyes  shut;  not  only  are  yours  always  open,  but  you 
make  use  of  an  eye-glass  besides ! " 

It  was  perhaps  this  eye-glass  which  prevented  Cldo- 
patre  from  accepting  the  Count's  sighs.  The  latter 
moreover  had  not  sighed  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 
word;  the  court  which  he  paid  the  Princess  strongly 
resembled  a  planned  battle ;  and  he  felt  in  addition 
that  if  he  were  ever  to  triumph,  this  would  be  the  only 
wa}r  in  which  he  would  have  any  chance  of  succeeding. 
The  young  woman  respected  his  cleverness,  which  she 
felt  was  at  least  equal  to  her  own,  and  even  occasion- 
ally she  was  a  little  in  dread  of  her  adorer's  piercing 
eyes;  they  treated  together  as  Power  with  Power. 
Could  they  ever  have  loved  each  other,  it  would  have 
been  in  order  not  to  hate  one  another ;  and  as  they  did 
not  yet  love,  there  was  every  reason  for  supposing  that 
they  hated. 

Raben  had  arrived  only  within  a  few  days,  but  he 
did  not  need  so  long  a  time  as  that  in  order  to  dissect 
from  their  head  to  their  feet,  both  body  and  soul,  the 
people  who  made  up  the  society  of  the  watering-place. 
His  critical  humor  had  stopped  before  two  alone,  Vald- 
rien  Moutine  and  his  wife.  The  latter  had  been  there 
only  a  short  time,  but  Groucha's  calmness  and  the 
physician's  noble  assurance  offered  no  material  for 
gossip. 

"  Do  you  receive  those  people  ?  "  Raben  asked. 

"  One  is  always  obliged  to  receive  the  physician  of  a 


326  MARKOF. 

watering-place,"  the  Princess  answered;  "he  is  very 
rn'ce  —  I  will  go  and  return  his  visit  one  of  these  days." 

"  The  physician's,  or  his  wife's  ?  " 

Cle"opatre  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"I  am  not  speaking  to  you  about  his  wife,"  said  she ; 
"  a  physician's  wife  does  not  exist." 

"  One  exists  enough,  however,  to  defend  herself  if 
you  should  try  to  take  her  husband  from  her ! " 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  said  Cleopatre  with  a  haughty 
accent.  "  I  would  like  much  to  see  her !  "  she  added 
with  a  disdainful  laugh. 

"  Come,  Princess,  leave  that  nice  little  couple  alone 
to  add  a  number  of  quarters  to  their  honey-moon! 
Should  you  destroy  that  happiness,  would  you  gain 
much  by  it?  " 

"  I  care  much  for  other  persons'  happiness ! "  said 
she  with  contempt.  "  Other  people's  happiness !  what 
an  interesting  thing  it  is  ! " 

Raben  looked  at  her  from  under  his  eyes ;  and  she 
continued  proudly : 

"  You  think  me  cynical  ?  Do  you  dare  to  say  that  in 
a  hundred  individuals  you  could  guarantee  me  one 
who  does  not  feel  the  same  ?  Yourself  first,  particu- 
larly you !  The  only  difference  between  all  the  world 
and  myself,  is  that  the  others  hide  it  from  hypocrisy, 
and  that  I  tell  you  so  plainly,  from  frankness." 

"  That  frankness,  Princess,  might  also  be  called  cyni- 
cism," said  Raben  in  a  voice  as  soft  as  silk. 

"  Cynicism,  well !     That  is  better  than  hypocrisy  !  " 

"  Certainly !  "  said  the  diplomatist  with  exquisite 
courtesy.  "  What  surprises  me  —  can  I  say  it  to  you, 
Princess,  without  incurring  your  wrath  ?  " 


MARKOF.  327 

"  You  can  say  anything  that  you  choose,"  she  replied 
with  the  disdain  that  was  one  of  her  originalities; 
4-  after  all  the  disagreeable  truths  we  -have  said  to  each 
other,  I  do  not  see  why  you  have  any  need  of  pre- 
caution ! " 

"  It  is  habit ! "  said  Raben  to  excuse  himself.  "  Well ! 
dear  Princess,  what  surprises  me,  is  your  respect  for  the 
truth,  your — " 

"  Cynicism  !  "  said  the  Princess  tranquilly. 

"  It  is  you  who  said  it  this  time  —  should  limit  itself 
to  professions  of  faith;  it  is  that  you  should  care  so 
much  about  the  proprieties  of  life,  and  that  you  should 
be  such  a  perfect  wife  to  the  Prince  — " 

She  stopped,  and  putting  her  nervous,  supple  hand 
on  the  diplomatist's  arm,  clasped  it  so  hard  that  she 
hurt  him. 

"  If  all  the  world  had  our  strength,  mon  cher"  said 
she,  while  a  delicate  blush  mounted  to  her  pale  cheeks, 
"it  would  be  too  beautiful!  It  is  with  intelligent 
people  that  one  must  throw  away  the  mask  and  act  as 
one  thinks ;  but  the  world  is  composed  of  idiots,  who 
are  incapable  of  judging,  who  are  capable  at  most,  of 
gathering  themselves  together  like  frightened  sheep 
and  of  leaving  an  empty  space  around  a  black  one  — 
which  is  black  because  it  has  not  put  its  feet  in  their 
footprints,  and  hidden  its  opinions  as  they  hide  their 
vices.  The  world  is  stupid,  mon  cher,  and  that  is  why 
I  tell  you  what  I  think,  and  why  I  hide  from  them 
what  I  do." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  and  the  blush  disappeared 
quickly  from  her  cheeks.  The  haughty  expression 


328  MARKOF. 

returned  to  her  lips  and  she  smiled  with  the  superiority 
of  a  woman  who  has  never  had  a  master. 

"  Do  you  blame  me  for  it  ?  "  she  went  on,  as  she  con- 
tinued her  walk,  "you,  whose  whole  life  is  a  falsehood." 

"  It  is  diplomacy,"  said  Raben,  smiling.  She  shook 
her  head  with  scorn. 

"You  lie  from  habit,"  continued  she,  "from  taste, 
and  to  form  your  character  probably,  though  by  this 
time  it  ought  to  be  formed  or  never !  How  many 
times  have  you  told  me  that  you  loved  me  —  and  with 
what  a  pathetic  tone." 

"Ah!  Princess,  I  have  long  since  renounced  the 
pathetic  tone.  It  never  moved  you  !  " 

"  Nor  did  anything  else  come  to  pass !  All  that  is 
false!  You  hate  me;  I  do  not  love  you  very  much, 
and  we  are  the  best  friends  in  the  world.  Did  you  not 
come  here  expressly  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  You  are  worthy  of  all  homage  !  " 

"  Journeys  included  —  Come,  mon  cher,  let  us  leave 
each  other  alone.  I  will  not  interfere  with  your  diplo- 
matic duties.  Permit  me  to  live  as  I  please." 

Raben  bowed :  the  discussion  was  ended.  They  con- 
tinued walking  in  the  gardens,  meeting  from  time  to 
time  an  acquaintance,  and  exchanging  a  bow  without 
stopping.  The  Princess  never  stopped  to  speak  to  any 
one ;  she  thought  it  vulgar  in  the  extreme.  Suddenly, 
as  they  approached  the  orchestra,  Raben  put  on  his  eye- 
glass, and,  without  changing  his  voice,  without  showing 
the  least  surprise,  said : 

"  You  are  worthy  of  all  journeys,  Princess,  most 
undeniably;  there  is  some  one  who  has  come  from 
Moscow,  expressly." 


MARK  OF.  329 

Cl^opatre  followed  the  direction  of  his  look  and 
perceived  De'miane.  Standing,  with  his  back  turned 
to  the  orchestra,  he  was  scanning  the  crowd  with  the 
earnestness  of  a  man  who  does  not  wish  to  make  a 
mistake.  The  person  he  was  looking  for,  was  evidently 
not  the  Princess;  he  had  assured  himself  at  the  first 
glance  that  she  was  not  there ;  it  was  for  some  indica- 
tion of  her  presence,  the  face  of  some  one  in  her  suite, 
some  one  of  those  whom  he  had  seen  when  she  left  and 
whom  he  was  sure  not  to  have  forgotten. 

"  He  is  a  handsome  fellow,"  said  the  diplomatist,  who 
was  still  calm.  "  Did  you  tell  him  to  come  ?  " 

She  made  a  negative  gesture  and  put  on  her  eye-glass 
to  examine  De'miane. 

"  He  is  handsomer  than  ever !  What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  him,  Princess  ?  " 

She  turned  her  back  on  the  crowd  and  took  the  road 
to  her  villa,  without  any  one's  having  noticed  her 
presence. 

"  It  is  agreed,  Count,  that  we  will  not  meddle  with 
each  other's  affairs,"  said  she  to  him,  with  her  calm  and 
rather  drawling  voice. 

"  Unless  it  should  be  for  our  greater  mutual  good !  " 
he  concluded,  "and  never  without  permission." 

"That  is  how  I  understand  it,"  said  she  as  she 
pushed  open  the  little  gate  of  her  garden. 


330  MARKOF. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

DEMIANE    FINDS     HIS     MAGNET. 

FOR  two  days  Demiane  vainly  endeavored  to  see  the 
Princess ;  the  latter  kept  invisible.  She  quickly 
found  out  who  composed  the  little  troupe ;  she  thought 
HelSne  ugly  and  insignificant,  and  assigned  to  Madame 
Mianof  a  role  of  great  usefulness,  or  rather  of  great 
uselessness,  and  looked  down  upon  Victor  as  a  common 
impresario,  whose  sole  thought  was  to  show  his  com- 
pany in  the  best  light.  The  young  artist  was  superior 
to  his  surroundings,  which  the  Princess  royally  dis- 
dained from  all  the  height  of  her  own  haughtiness, 
which  was  increased  by  the  humility  of  others.  De*mi- 
ane's  appearance  had  made  a  sensation  in  the  society 
of  the  place,  and  every  one  declared  that  he  was  as 
handsome  as  Apollo. 

Demiane  cared  but  little  for  the  opinion  of  the  ladies ; 
it  was  the  Princess  whom  he  alone  wished  to  see ;  soon 
after  his  arrival  he  had  learned  more  from  M.  and 
Mme.  Moutine  perhaps,  than  he  wished  to  know  in 
relation  to  her.  ValeVien  withheld  from  any  too  direct 
criticism  about  her ;  but,  in  the  young  physician's  pru- 
dence De*miarie,  although  inexperienced,  had  discovered 
a  mistrust,  about  which  he  felt  as  hurt  as  though  it 
concerned  himself  personally. 

He  mentally  accused  Vale*rien  of  allowing  himself  to 
be  influenced  by  false  reports  and  calumnies  to  which 


M  AKK  O  F  .  331 

a  man  of  his  character  should  not  have  listened. 
Madame  Mo u tine  spoke  of  the  Princess  only  with  the 
greatest  reserve ;  she  evidently  desired  that  no  word 
coming  from  her  lips,  whether  good  or  evil,  should  be 
repeated  to  the  star  of  Piatigorsk.  This  caution  011 
the  part  of  his  two  friends  increased  D<hniane's  impa- 
tience and  inspired  him  with  silent  anger  towards  those 
who  attacked  his  idol  —  the  same  anger  which  he  had 
before  felt  towards  Ladof,  but  this  time  he  was  not  des- 
tined to  be  enlightened  by  the  bright  and  caustic  wit 
of  his  friend. 

At  last,  on  the  third  day,  as  De*miane,  who  was  chaf- 
ing at  his  curb,  was  walking  to  and  fro  for  the  tenth 
time  on  the  road  before  the  villa  Rddine,  he  saw  a 
wheeled  chair,  pushed  by  a  servant,  appear  at  a  turn 
in  the  garden;  and  beside  it,  shading  the  happy  and 
drowsy  Prince  with  her  parasol,  which  was  lined  with 
rose-color,  slowly  walked  the  Princess  Cldopatre  bend- 
ing over  her  husband  from  time  to  time  to  speak  to  him 
with  an  enchanting  smile.  The  old  invalid  roused  him- 
self and  answered  his  protecting  fairy  with  a  dull  smile, 
and  then  began  to  look  at  the  trees  he  was  passing  in 
the  avenue,  as  though  he  were  afraid  of  not  being  able 
to  count  them. 

"  What  an  excellent  woman  !  "  thought  De*miane  who 
was  fascinated  by  this  scene,  and  then  in  defiance  of 
propriety,  he  stopped  near  the  iron  fence,  like  a  beggar, 
and  waited  till  chance  should  bring  the  pedestrians 
closer  to  him,  before  stepping  aside,  should  it  be 
necessary. 

The  wheel-chair  and  the  parasol  took  several  turns 


332  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

around  the  lawn ;  then,  leaning  over  the  Prince,  Cle*o- 
patre  seemed  to  ask  him  his  advice  about  something. 
Here,  or  there  ?  her  hand  seemed  to  say,  as  it  pointed 
in  turn  towards  the  park  and  the  road.  The  old  man 
made  a  vague  gesture,  and  immediately  the  little  car- 
riage rolled  toward  the  iron  fence  with  extraordinary 
rapidity.  De'miane  scarcely  had  time  to  walk  away  a 
few  steps  and  to  return,  in  order  to  pass  before  the  gate 
as  the  chair  came  out  from  it. 

His  heart  beat  very  fast,  as,  with  brows  contracted 
by  emotion,  and  with  gleaming  eyes,  he  endeavored  to 
assume  an  easy  air,  but  De'miane  was  dreadfully  pale, 
in  spite  of  his  boldness.  However,  he  executed  so 
adroitly  the  design  he  had  planned  that  the  little  car- 
riage nearly  came  full  upon  him  as  it  turned  into  the 
road.  He  drew  back  a  step  and  did  not  dare  to  raise 
his  eyes,  thinking  himself  ridiculous,  but  he  was  not 
timid,  and  his  hesitation  did  not  last  the  thousandth 
part  of  a  second;  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  the 
Princess  full  in  the  face. 

"To  the  right  or  left?"  said  the  latter,  addressing 
her  husband,  without  noticing  De'miane. 

With  an  indolent  air,  the  former  made  some  indiffer- 
ent movement,  and  the  carriage  passed  before  De'miane, 
who*  was  amazed. 

What,  she  did  not  recognize  him?  It  was  hardly 
worth  while  to  have  travelled  five  hundred  leagues  to 
meet  her,  if  she  did  not  remember  his  face !  Had  she 
forgotten  the  soft  glance  she  had  thrown  him  with  that 
thanks,  which  accepted  the  homage  of  all  the  violinist's 
youthful  passion  ?  If  she  had  forgotten  it,  if  Demiane 


MARKOF.  333 

had  only  pursued  a  dream,  were  the  calumnies  then 
true  ?  Was  this  woman  playing  with  the  love  she  had 
inspired?  Were  men  only  jumping-jacks  whose  gro- 
tesque movements  amused  her  for  a  moment,  and  which 
she  threw  away  after  having  broken  their  strings  ? 

Our  friend  was  not  patient ;  the  blood  rushed  to  his 
face,  and  he  was  perhaps  about  to  call  to  the  Princess 
when  she  turned  half  round,  as  though  struck  by  a 
remembrance,  and  her  half-closed  eyes  threw  a  strange 
look  at  De*miane. —  "I  think  I  know  you,"  said  the 
look,  "  but  I  am  not  sure ;  tell  me  discreetly  whether 
you  have  seen  me  before,  or  whether  you  are  only  a 
stranger." 

Ddmiane's  eyes  returned  the  plainest  answer  to  this 
question.  Then  the  undecided  look  became  suddenly 
fixed  and  a  gleam  shone  in  the  black  pupils. —  "  I  recog- 
nize you,"  said  the  gleam,  and  then  the  near-sighted  eyes 
closed  together  immediately,  and  the  Princess  stopped. 
Under  the  reflection  of  her  crimson-lined  parasol,  her 
complexion  and  her  magnificent  hair  assumed  a  remark- 
able brilliancy ;  she  looked  like  a  superb  rose  that  opens 
itself  unblushingly  to  the  mid-day  sun. 

The  carriage  stopped. 

"Monsieur  Markof  ?"  said  she,  with  the  haughtiness 
that  was  one  of  her  provoking  charms. 

Ddmiane  bowed  in  silence.  He  could  not  answer,  for 
his  parched  throat  would  not  allow  him  to  utter  any 
sound. 

"I  thought  you  were  in  Moscow,"  said  she  in  her 
slightly  drawling  voice ;  "  have  you  come  here  to  give 
concerts?" 


334  MARKOF. 

He  could  do  nothing  but  bow  again. 

"We  will  play  some  music  together,  if  you  would  like 
to  do  so,"  said  she,  with  a  perfectly  queenly  motion  of 
her  head,  which  also  resembled  a  bow ;  "  I  receive  this 
evening." 

She  turned  again  towards  the  Prince,  who  was  grum- 
bling, impatient  at  the  delay,  which,  however,  was  so 
short.  The  little  carriage  began  to  roll  forward  again, 
making  the  gravel  on  the  newly  macadamized  pathway 
grate,  and  the  rose-colored  parasol  was  held  with  a 
playful  tenderness  in  the  direction  of  the  sun  over  the 
old  invalid's  head,  while  the  Princess  fearlessly  exposed 
to  the  sunshine  her  dazzling  complexion,  which  had  no 
fear  of  tan. 

"  I  am  ridiculous  !  "  said  Demiane  suddenly  to  him- 
self, with  an  inward  shudder;  "if  she  looked  back,  she 
will  take  me  for  a  runaway  from  college."  And  he 
turned  from  the  group  which  was  disappearing. 

He  would  have  liked  much,  however,  to  have  seen 
her  look  round,  and  he  stopped  on  the  road  more  than 
once  in  the  hope  that  she  would  think  of  him,  and  that 
she  would  throw  him  another  glance  backwards;  but 
he  did  not  perceive  one.  The  Princess  never  looked 
back,  neither  in  the  street,  nor  in  life. 

When  he  returned  to  the  hotel,  he  told  his  friends, 
with  assumed  indifference,  of  his  meeting,  and  asked 
them  their  advice  with  regard  to  the  way  he  should  act. 
Would  it  do  to  go  to  the  Princess'  that  same  evening, 
or  would  it  be  better  to  wait  till  the  next  day  ?  Victor 
and  H£l£ne  thought  it  would  be  better  to  go  that  even- 
ing; Madame  Mianof  was  rather  inclined  to  the  next 


MA  UK  OF.  335 

day;  but  it  was  so  hot !  It  was  probably  the  heat  that 
took  away  all  her  courage  for  others  as  well  as  for  her- 
self; at  least,  so  Victor  said. 

"  I  will  go  to-morrow,"  Ddmiane  declared  decidedly, 
to  end  the  discussion. 

But  in  the  evening,  towards  eight  o'clock,  he  walked 
around  the  drawing-room  several  times,  looked  out  of 
the  window,  said  it  was  stifling  in  such  small  rooms, 
that  he  did  not  understand  how  people  could  remain 
shut  up  in  that  way,  and  that  as  for  himself,  he  was 
going  to  take  a  walk. 

"  Let  us  all  go ! "  exclaimed  Victor.  Madame 
Mianof  preferred  to  remain  at  home ;  He'le'ne  went  to 
get  her  hat,  and  Ddmiane  passed  into  his  room  with  a 
solemn  step.  The  friends  waited  ien  minutes,  then 
fifteen,  and  then  Victor,  who  had  grown  impatient  tried 
to  go  into  his  brother's  room,  but  he  found  the  door 
locked. 

"  Well,  De*miane,  what  are  you  doing  ?  "  said  he  as 
he  knocked. 

"  I  am  dressing  myself,"  answered  the  young  man. 

"  That's  scarcely  worth  while  ! "  murmured  Victor, 
"it's  as  dark  as  a  cellar,  and  the  way  in  which  they 
light  this  place  might  be  much  improved." 

He  went  to  rejoin  little  Hdlone,  who  with  her  hat  on, 
seated  near  the  window,  was  looking  at  the  stars  forming 
diadems  on  the  neighboring  mountains.  He  grumbled, 
but  she,  who  was  always  calm  and  grave,  made  him 
see  that  it  was  of  no  use,  so  he  became  silent,  and  con- 
tented himself  with  looking  at  the  stars  also. 

After  another  quarter  of  an  hour,  De*miane  made  his 


336  MARK  OF.  x 

appearance ;  his  summer  overcoat  hid  his  dress,  he  held 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  as  the  drawing-room  alone  was 
lighted,  no  one  thought  of  remarking  his  white  cravat. 

"  At  last !  "  grumbled  Victor.  They  left,  and  their 
walk  naturally  took  the  direction  towards  the  end  of 
the  town ;  for  they  could  not  find  coolness  or  solitude 
within  it.  They  then  went  towards  the  outer  boule- 
vard, that  was  bordered  by  villas,  whose  trees  hung 
over  the  walls  and  threw  their  black  shadows  on  the 
road.  They  walked  slowly,  a  few  steps  apart  from 
each  other,  and  were  enjoying  the  calm  coolness  of 
the  night.  This  coolness  was  particularly  sweet  to 
Helejne,  who  discovered  in  it  a  secret  affinity  with  her 
own  nature.  They  scarcely  spoke  to  each  other,  each  one 
being  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts ;  Hel£ne  was  enjoy- 
ing her  realized  dream.  To  have  reached  the  Caucasus 
and  to  have  contemplated  the  snowy  summits  of  the 
high  mountains ;  to  be  walking  thus  under  the  stars, 
bathed  in  the  perfume  of  the  great  pines  and  the  roses 
blooming  in  the  gardens  which  never  smell  so  sweetly 
as  at  night ;  to  have  Ddmiane  quite  near  to  her,  within 
reach  of  her  hand  and  her  voice,  was  all  that  she  asked 
from  life,  and  provided  this  dream  would  only  last 
long,  she  would  claim  no  other  happiness  of  Fate. 

Victor  was  calculating  in  his  mind  the  advantages 
which  this  sojourn  at  the  watering-place  would  bring 
to  them  all,  both  from  a  moral  and  a  material  point  of 
view.  In  the  first  place  it  was  assuredly  something  to 
have  kept  little  Hel£ne  with  them,  whose  presence 
added  so  much  peace  and  sweetness  to  their  lives. 
Since  their  conversation  at  Saratof,  neither  he  nor  she 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  337 

had  ever  made  any  allusion  to  their  common  secret; 
but  he  had  looked  deep  enough  into  his  own  heart  to 
appreciate  what  this  calm  and  silent  young  girl  had 
become  to  him,  in  so  short  a  time.  He  knew  that  she 
loved  his  brother,  and  it  was  perfectly  natural  she 
should  do  so.  Was  not  Ddmiane  above  all  a  man  made 
to  be  loved  ?  Ought  not  his  beauty,  talent  and  supe- 
rior intelligence  win  all  hearts  to  him  ?  And  little 
Helene,  who  shared  with  him  the  daily  bread  of  music, 
who  became  intoxicated  from  the  same  sacred  cup  of 
harmony,  was  she  not  appointed  by  fate  to  share  his 
existence  ?  Some  day  or  other,  Ddmiane,  who  was 
visibly  indifferent  now,  would  appreciate  the  modest 
treasure  which  he  overlooked,  and  the  happiness  of  the 
two  young  people  would  know  no  obstacle. 

It  was  the  thought  of  this  happiness,  the  painful 
looking  into  himself,  which  apprised  Victor  how  much 
his  heart  had  been  influenced  by  the  young  girl's  mel- 
ancholy grace.  But  to  what  could  his  dream  lead? 
Was  it  not  already  a  great  deal  that  his  deformity  did 
not  inspire  He*le"ne  with  repugnance  towards  him,  that 
she  permitted  him  in  joke  to  call  her  little  sister  ?  He 
well  knew  that  no  woman  could  feel  any  love  for  a 
poor  unfortunate  creature  like  himself ;  but  would  not 
the  happiness  of  those  whom  he  loved  be  his  joy  ?  Cer- 
tainly! And  yet,  the  good  fellow  had  felt  scalding 
tears  run  down  his  cheeks  at  the  thought  of  that  happi- 
ness. But  the  sacrifice  was  made,  an  easy  sacrifice, 
thought  he  with  irony,  since  he  sacrificed  what  no  one 
had  given  him.  It  was  therefore  much  to  have  brought 
little  Helchie  to  the  Caucasus  with  them.  In  this 
21 


33&  MARK  OF. 

daily  intercourse,  D^miane's  eyes  would  at  length  be 
opened.  In  a  material  point  of  view,  it  was  very  fortu- 
nate also,  for  the  two  young  men  were  learning  the 
French  language  quickly  and  correctly  with  the  two 
ladies,  a  language  that  is  indispensable  in  good  society; 
and  then,  the  expenses  were  proportionately  less,  and 
the  concerts  could  not  fail  to  be  excellent. 

The  pedestrians  had  brought  their  reveries  with 
them  as  far  as  the  gate  where  Dcmiane  had  waited 
so  long  in  the  morning,  and  they  came  suddenly  back 
to  reality,  when  the  latter  said  to  them  in  a  deliberate 
tone  of  voice : 

"  Return  alone,  my  friends,  I  am  going  to  the 
Princess'." 

"  Going  to  the  Princess' !  "  exclaimed  Victor  ;  "  but 
you  can  only  go  there  in  a  dress-coat." 

Ddmiane  smiled  confidently  without  replying. 

"  That  was  why  you  were  so  long  in  dressing  your- 
self then,  mysterious  gentleman. !  Why  could  you  not 
have  told  us  so  at  home? " 

"  I  had  not  decided  about  it,  and  then,  am  I  obliged 
to  tell  you  everything  I  am  going  to  do?"  said  the. 
artist  in  a  piqued  tone. 

"  Ah !  Heavens !  no  !  "  said  Victor  sadly,  "you  are 
not  obliged  to  do  anything.  Good-night." 

"Good -night,  Monsieur  Dcmiane,"  said  Hone's 
sweet  voice. 

He  repeated  her  words  in  a  brusque  way  and  entered 
the  garden ;  the  gate  was  wide  open ;  and  as  they  were 
watching  him  going  away,  a  carriage  drawn  by  two 
horses  nearly  ran  over  them  as  it  turned  to  enter  the 


M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

gateway.  They  simultaneously  seized  each  other's 
hands  and  took  the  road  to  their  dwelling. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  Princess  ?  "  Hel£ne  asked  after 
a  moment. 

"No." 

"  Is  she  young  or  old,  ugly  or  handsome  ?  " 

"  She  i*  young  and  handsome/'  answered  Victor ; 
"  at  least  I  have  been  told  so." 

H^lene  sighed. 

"We  are  of  very  little  account  to  him,"  said  she 
sorrowfully  ;  "  now  he  is  going  into  the  world ! — " 

"  It  is  necessary  to  go  into  the  world  in  order  to  give 
concerts,"  observed  Victor. 

"  Yes,  but — it  is  not  the  same  thing." 

They  returned  home  sad  and  down-hearted.  De*mi- 
ane  had  cut  the  wings  of  their  dreams. 


340  MARKOF. 

CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

THE    FETISH. 

WHILE  his  friends  were  returning  to  their  home, 
filled  with  melancholy,  De*miane  did  not  make 
a  brilliant  appearance  at  the  Princess' ;  his  name,  which 
was  carelessly  announced  by  a  valet-de-pied,  did  not 
seem  to  strike  any  one,  neither  did  his  face.  Four 
Generals  of  a  respectable  age  were  playing  a  game  of 
preference,  a  fifth  was  awaiting  his  turn.  The  Prince, 
who  was  seated  in  a  wheeled  arm-chair,  which  was  less 
ample  but  more  elegant  than  the  one  he  had  used  in  the 
morning,  was  presiding  over  a  table  that  was  especially 
laid  for  him,  and  which  was  covered  with  sweet  things 
which  he  ate  slowly,  with  visible  satisfaction ;  two  old 
ladies  threw  an  indifferent  glance  on  the  new-comer 
who  was  neither  titled  nor  commissioned,  and  the 
Princess,  who  was  surrounded  by  charming  men,  most 
of  them  belonging  to  the  military,  seemed  only  to  pay 
slight  attention  to  the  young  artist's  call.  After  the 
first  words  of  politeness,  and  two  or  three  introductions, 
she  occupied  herself  no  more  about  him,  and  divided 
her  attentions  between  the  old  Generals  and  her  hus- 
band, who  was  eating  enough  bonbons  to  kill  him,  and 
from  whom  she  took  his  plate,  in  spite  of  his  protesta- 
tions. She  poured  him  out  a  cup  of  tea,  assured  herself 
that  he  was  drinking  it  properly,  then  passed  near  the 
card  table,  gave  some  advice  to  one  of  the  players, 


MARK  OF.  341 

sat  for  an  instant  between  two  old  ladies,  and  then 
returned  to  her  circle  of  young  men. 

Raben  then  entered  without  being  announced,  like  a 
friend  of  the  family,  and  the  Prince  saluted  his  appear- 
ance with  the  longest  phrase  that  he  had  uttered 
during  the  day. 

"Delighted  to  see  you,  Count.     Are  you  well?  " 

After  which  the  old  parrot  looked  around  for  his 
plate  of  bonbons,  and,  not  finding  it,  to  console  him- 
self, took  a  second  cup  of  tea,  that  was  poured  out  for 
him  by  the  valet-de-chambre,  who  was  attached  to  his 
person,  and  who,  from  the  next  room,  watched  all  his 
movements. 

After  having  kissed  the  Princess'  hand,  and  ex- 
changed a  few  words  with  each  person,  Raben  sat 
down  in  a  bergere,  neither  too  near  nor  too  far  from 
every  one,  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  disguised  but 
attentive  examination  of  De*miane's  person. 

"  He  makes  a  good  figure  in  a  silly  situation," 
thought  the  diplomatist ;  "  it  is  a  good  sign  and  speaks 
in  his  favor.  How  bad  she  must  be  to  make  him 
play  that  role  !  After  all,  she  probably  hopes  to  make 
amends  to  him  for  it  soon." 

This  thought  inspired  Count  Raben  with  the  desire 
of  making  the  acquaintance  of  the  happy  fellow  for 
whom  so  many  compensations  were  reserved,  and  lie 
rose  to  join  him ;  but  the  Princess  passed  in  front  of 
him  and  threw  herself  in  a  large  arm-chair  that  was 
quite  close  to  the  one  on  which  D^miane  was  sitting. 

"Well  played! "  said  Raben's  eyes,  in  response  to  a 
look  of  malicious  defiance  which  his  beautiful  friend 


342  MARKOF. 

threw  him;  then  he  went  towards  the  Prince, — it  was 
an  infallible  means,  as  he  knew,  of  preventing  the 
Princess  from  continuing  long  her  conversation  with 
the  young  artist.  The  number  of  things  in  which  she 
did  not  believe  was  almost  unlimited,  but  she  had  a 
blind,  absolute  faith  in  a  fetish,  a  porte-bonheur  which 
she  wished  to  keep  for  herself  alone ;  this  fetish  was 
her  husband. 

When  she  was  a  young  girl,  the  Princess  Cle'opatre 
had  known  sorrow;  the  man -whom  she  first  loved,  he 
who  perhaps  might  have  won  an  irresistible  influence 
over  her,  had  not  even  deigned  to  recognize  the  love 
with  which  he  had  inspired  her ;  she  had  spent  years  in 
overcoming  her  feelings  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  speak 
to  him  smilingly,  as  people  speak  to  each  other  in  soci- 
ety ;  she  had  gained  so  much  control  over  herself  that 
she  was  accused  of  detesting  the  man;  in  truth  she  did 
detest  him ;  she  had  passed  from  love  to  hate,  as  one 
passes  over  the  water  on  a  bridge,  without  a  shock, 
"without  reluctance;  assured  of  being  disdained,  she 
wished  now  but  one  thing:  the  death  of  him  who, 
without  knowing  it,  had  thus  humiliated  her.  It  was 
in  this  trial  that  she  had  gained  all  her  energy ;  she  had, 
moreover,  gained  in  it  a  great  disdain,  and  a  great  con- 
tempt for  humanity,  which  is  so  stupid. 

Then  she  ha  1  married  the  Prince,  who  was  twenty- 
five  years  older  than  herself,  and  many  millions  richer, 
and  her  life  had  changed  its  character.  All  the  happi- 
ness that  luxury  can  give,  all  the  independence  that 
contempt  for  men  can  bestow,  all  the  success  that  a 
threat  name  and  a  high  position  brings  had  suddenly 


MARK  OF.  343 

fallen  around  her,  making  a  litter  for  her  pride  and 
li'T  caprices.  The  Prince,  who  was  wounded  eighteen 
months  after  his  marriage,  had  passed  through  a  dread- 
ful illness  in  which  his  mind  had  been  shattered.  From 
the  day  when  cured,  but  counted  out  of  the  number  of 
living  beings,  he  sat  on  the  terrace  of  their  palace  to 
devour  sweets,  which  alone  henceforth  gave  him  any 
enjoyment,  the  Princess  Redine  felt  a  fierce  delight  as 
she  looked  around  her. 

"  Everything  belongs  to  me  !  all  that  life  can  bestow," 
she  said  to  herself.  And  in  truth,  she  possessed  every 
thing  that  the  earth  produces  that  is  most  exquisite  and 
most  rare  —  all,  except  the  love  of  an  honest  man;  but 
this  mattered  little  to  her  for  she  did  not  believe  in  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  she  believed  that  her  husband,  in 
the  state  to  which  he  was  reduced,  was  the  visible 
providence  of  her  life  :  through  what  crack  in  her  skull 
had  this  idea  penetrated  into  the  Princess'  powerfully 
organized  brain  ?  It  matters  little ;  but  it  was  on 
account  of  this  that  she  was  a  good  wife,  and  that  she 
had  no  interest  that  did  not  yield  to  that  of  satisfy- 
ing all  the  childish  wants  of  the  foolish  old  man ;  she 
held  so  much  to  his  life  that  she  had  the  courage  and 
patience  to  resist  for  hours  any  gluttonish  caprices  of 
his  that  might  endanger  his  precious  existence.  She 
took  him  to  walk,  amused  him,  put  him  to  sleep  to  the 
sound  of  distant  music  every  night,  and  left  her  draw- 
ing-room to  inquire  whether  his  slumbers  were  not 
disturbed. 

On  seeing  Raben  approach  her  fetish,  the  Princess 
made  a  gesture  of  impatience ;  she  had  a  vague  dread 


344  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

of  what  he  might  say,  and  of  what  the  other  might 
understand.  This  was  the  sword  of  Damocles  in  a 
happiness  that  would  have  been  too  insolent  without  if ; 
this  woman  who  feared  nothing,  was  in  dread  of  an 
awakening  in  her  husband's  mind ;  she  knew  the  Count 
was  clever  enough  to  rouse  in  him  at  times,  fugi- 
tive returns  of  memory  or  intelligence,  which  caused 
her  an  uneasiness  that  she  could  not  overcome;  she 
feared  in  such  an  awakening  an  attack  which  might 
end  in  death  —  and  the  Prince  must  live.  While 
she  was  addressing  a  few  insignificant  words  about 
art  and  poetry  to  Demiane,  her  look  never  quitted 
the  wheeled  chair.  Suddenly  she  rose  and  took  two 
steps  toward  the  Prince,  thus  interrupting  his  con- 
versation. 

"My  dear,"  said  she  to  him  with  charming  grace, 
"  here  is  Monsieur  Markof,  a  young  man  of  remarkable 
talent,  one  of  our  future  glories;  knowing  how  fond 
you  are  of  music,  I  begged  him  to  come  and  see  us  ;  I 
am  sure  you  will  be  grateful  to  me  for  it !  and  to  him 
also. —  The  Prince,  my  husband,"  she  added,  half  turn- 
ing to  Ddmiane,  over  whom  she  threw  her  magnetic 
glance.  Then  she  passed  slowly  in  front  of  him,  and 
the  folds  of  her  heavy  silk  dress,  which  was  loaded  with 
trimmings,  rose  almost  to  the  young  man's  knees,  then 
fell  and  followed  her  at  a  distance  on  the  Persian  carpet 
which  was  woven  in  soft  and  quiet  colors. 
"  Music,"  said  the  Prince,  "  I  like  music." 
After  this  effort,  he  buried  himself  in  his  chair  much 
pleased — he  almost  always  had  a  satisfied  look.  Demi- 
ane, who  was  much  embarrassed,  did  not  know  what  to 


MARK  OF.  345 

reply.  Raben  came  to  his  aid,  offered  him  a  chair  and 
took  one  for  himself,  and  immediately,  the  simple  young 
man  thought  he  had  found  a  friend. 

After  half  an  hour,  Raben  rose,  and  Demiane  judged 
it  was  time  to  retire.  He  approached  the  Princess, 
who  received  him  amiably  and  indifferently. 

"  When  would  you  prefer,"  said  she  to  him,  "  that 
we  should  play  a  little  music  together  ?  " 

"  Whenever  you  please,  Madame,"  said  he,  quickly 
become  joyful. 

"  In  the  morning,  will  that  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"To-morrow  —  no;  day  after  to-morrow  morning,  at 
ten  o'clock,  will  you  come  ?  " 

He  bowed  and  withdrew  at  once. 

"  Still  a  little  awkward,"  said  Raben  carelessly,  when 
the  young  artist  had  disappeared,  "  but  he  has  a  good 
amount  of  assurance  —  and  then  one  gets  over  awk- 
wardness with  time  —  and  with  lessons." 

44  He  is  a  little  young,"  replied  the  Princess.  "  But 
youth  is  a  charming  defect  —  one  gets  over  it  also  — 
with  time." 

But  Raben  continued  to  smile.  Epigrams  glanced 
from  him.  He  had  fired  off  so  many  at  others,  that 
they  had  no  more  sharp  points  for  him. 


346  MARK  OF. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

DEMIANE     AWAKES. 

DEMIANE  had  played  with  the  Princess  for  a  week, 
and  every  time  that  he  returned  home,  he  was 
utterly  down-hearted.  He  lived  no  longer  except  in 
this  woman,  from  the  air  she  breathed,  from  the  flowers 
which  her  hand  grazed  as  she  passed  them,  from  the 
folds  of  her  dress  which  touched  him  sometimes  and 
which  made  him  thrill  from  his  head  to  his  feet.  He 
now  scarcely  ate,  pretending  he  had  taken  tea  down  there 
—  down  there,  was  the  villa,  which  he  no  longer  called 
otherwise  —  he  practised  no  more  on  his  violin,  which 
he  left  on  the  end  of  the  grand  piano,  and  passed  his 
days  in  smoking  cigarettes,  with  Madame  Mianof; 
these  two  persons  did  not  mutually  disturb  each  other : 
one  being  in  her  somnolent  state,  the  other  wrapt  in 
his  feverish  revery,  they  passed  hours  without  address- 
ing a  word  to  one  another,  and  without  making  any 
motion. 

After  a  week  of  this  existence,  Hel£ne  and  Victor, 
who  were  very  gloomy,  ended  in  not  speaking  to  each 
other  any  more,  nor  did  they  even  look  at  each  other, 
fearing  to  understand  one  another  too  well.  They  had 
seen  the  Princess  when  the  music  played,  at  the  Casino, 
and  the  same  certainty  had  torn  the  veil  from  their  now 
understanding  eyes.  Victor  recalled  the  singular  scene 
when  Ladof  had  been  almost  obliged  to  use  authority 


MARK  OF.  347 

in  order  to  bring  Demiane  back  to  reasonable  feelings, 
and  then  a  thousand  incidents  of  their  journey  grouped 
themselves  together  in  his  mind  and  he  understood  that 
the  Caucasus  had  always  been  the  goal  of  their  musical 
journey. 

From  the  first  time  he  saw  her,  the  Princess  had 
inspired  him  with  a  deep  and  unreasonable  antipathy: 
the  beauty  of  this  woman  had  no  influence  over  his 
simple  soul,  and  he  had  declared  she  was  ugly,  but  in 
confidence  and  to  Helcne  alone.  Cle'opatre  produced 
upon  him  the  influence  of  a  siren,  of  an  evil-doing  and 
mythical  being,  who  would  necessarily  swallow  up 
Demiane  some  day,  should  he  allow  himself  to  be  led 
away;  and  how  could  he  be  prevented  from  throwing 
himself  into  the  wolf's  jaws!  And  then  his  heart  was 
wounded  at  the  silence  of  his  brother  on  this  delicate 
subject.  He  thought  he  had  a  right  to  his  confidence. 

H  clone  had  not  said  so  much  to  herself:  she  did  not 
know  why  they  had  come  to  Piatigorsk,  and  if  she  had 
been  aware  of  it,  it  would  not  have  changed  her  feel- 
ings very  much.  Demiane  loved  that  woman,  was  not 
that  enough  ?  She  did  not  share  Victor's  opinion  ;  who 
was  more  worldly,  and  better  enlightened  in  regard  to 
modern  customs.  She  recognized  the  Princess'  unques- 
tionable superiority,  her  strange  beauty  and  her  fasci- 
nating manners,  and  the  abyss  into  which  the  poor 
young  girl  %fell  when  she  compared  herself  to  this 
brilliant  star,  was  only  the  deeper. 

Helene  had  no  great  resources  to  call  upon  where  her 
feelings  were  concerned ;  she  neither  knew  how  to,  nor 
could  she  struggle  with  such  a  rival ;  she  only  wept. 


348  MARKOF. 

Dark  circles  formed  around  her  eyes,  and  her  face  grew 
slightly  thin.  She  was  a  hundred  times  prettier,  and 
only  Victor  peceived  it. 

One  day,  instead  of  coming  home  about  twelve 
o'clock,  as  he  generally  did,  De*miane  made  them  delay 
breakfast  for  him  ;  after  an  hour  our  friends  decided  to 
take  their  repast  without  him,  and  as  they  were  finish- 
ing it,  he  entered,  carrying  his  head  high  and  with  a 
triumphant  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  We  are  going  to  give  a  concert  next  week,"  said 
he  laying  down  his  hat  gravely,  on  an  empty  plate. 
"  Are  you  ready,  Helene  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  omitted  the  word 
mademoiselle,  and  this  involuntary  mark  of  familiarity 
comforted  the  little  pianiste's  sorrowful  heart. 

"  I  am  always  ready,  as  you  well  know ! "  said  she 
joyfully. 

"  I  do  not  speak  with  regard  to  your  piano,"  con- 
tinued De*miane,  wisely.  "  The  question  concerns  your 
toilette.  The  concert  will  be  very  grand.  His  Impe- 
rial Highness  will  do  us  the  honor  of  attending  it  with 
his  suite." 

"Highnesses!"  said  Victor,  with  a  tragi- comical 
motion.  "  Must  I  take  off  my  hump !  " 

"  That  joke  is  in  bad  taste,"  said  the  artist,  with  a  very 
elegant  gesture  of  disdain,  which  he  had  lately  learned 
at  the  villa  Rddine ;  "but  Helene  can  adorn  herself, 
she  ought  to  do  so,  in  order  to  do  honor  to  the  grand 
public." 

"And  to  you !  "  said  the  young  girl,  raising  her  honest 
eyes  to  her  idol. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  349 

He  deigned  to  smile  kindly,  and  his  look  fell  on  his 
modest  accompanist  to  assure  himself  that  she  would 
not  really  shame  him  in  the  society  of  so  distinguished 
persons ;  he  had  doubtless  learned  how  to  appreciate 
pure  lines  and  delicate  contours,  for  he  started  with 
surprise. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "you  have  improved  wonderfully  ; 
I  no  longer  recognize  you  !  with  your  clear  complexion, 
your  hair,  your  smile.  Do  you  know  you  are  very 
pretty  ?  " 

H61ene  smiled  and  raised  her  head  with  a  little  very 
natural  pride. 

"  I  did  not  know  it,"  said  she  ;  "  but  I  am  glad  that 
it  is  so,  glad  that  it  should  be  you  who  tell  me  so.  *? 

"  Will  you  please  see  the  little  coquette  !  You  wish 
people  to  pay  you  compliments,  then  ?  " 

"No,  Monsieur  Demiane,"  replied  the  young  girl, 
casting  down  her  pretty  eyes,  which  showed  confusion, 
"  it  is  because  no  one  ever  told  me  so  before." 

"  You  must  not  spoil  young  girls,"  said  Madame  Mi- 
anof  who,  inspired  by  the  feeling  of  duty  that  is  grafted 
on  maternal  prudence,  thought  it  necessary  to  inter- 
fere ;  "  young  girls  should  be  ignorant  of  the  natural 
advantages  that  nature  has  bestowed  upon  them,  and 
above  all,  not  take  any  pride  in  them.  What  dress 
must  my  daughter  wear  at  this  concert  ?  I  ask  your 
advice,  Monsieur  Ddmiane,  because,  as  you  go  into 
fashionable  society,  you  know  better  than  ourselves. 

"  I  know  absolutely  nothing  about  it ! "  Ddmiane 
declared  in  all  sincerity. 

"But  you  see  ladies  at  the  Princess'." 


350  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  They  are  old  ladies.  That  has  not  the  least  con- 
nection." 

"  The  Princess  herself?" 

"  Oh  !  the  Princess  —  it  is  not  the  same  thing.  She 
dresses  like  no  one  else !  " 

Helene  stifled  a  sigh,  and  Victor  repressed  a  move- 
ment of  impatience. 

"I  do  not  suppose,  however,  that  she  wears  her 
bonnets  in  the  way  of  slippers,"  said  she,  in  a  sour 
tone. 

"  No,  she  does  not  go  as  far  as  that,"  replied  De*mi- 
ane,  who  was  too  happy  that  day  to  take  in  ill  part 
what  he  considered  as  a  joke. 

"  You  have  surely  some  dresses,  Helene,  show  them 
to  me." 

"  I  have  not  a  single  nice  dress  to  show  you,"  replied 
the  young  girl  timidly ;  "  I  shall  be  obliged  to  have  one 
made." 

"  A  white  dress?"  Madame  Mianof  timidly  suggested. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Ddmiane  eagerly,  "  not  white,,  it  is 
too  much  worn." 

Helene  and  her  mother  looked  at  each  other  per- 
plexed. They  did  not  know  thaf  white  being  the 
Princess'  favorite  color,  the  young  man  did  not  wish  to 
see  any  one  else  wear  it. 

"Have  you  not  some  pieces  of  silk  from  Nijni?"  he 
suggested. 

"Ah!  that  is  true!  I  had  not  thought  of  them," 
exclaimed  Helene,  running  to  her  trunk. 

She  plunged  her  pretty  little  head  into  its  depths 
and  returned  gayly,  with  her  arms  laden  with  the  most 


MARKOF.  351 

remarkable  materials,  woven  in  the  most  brilliant 
colors,  which  were  very  suitable  for  covering  elegant 
furniture. 

Our  friends  burst  out  laughing  at  the  sight  of  this 
rainbow  display,  took  a  real  pleasure  in  shaking  out  the 
heavy  brocades  and  making  them  shimmer  in  the  light. 
They  were  perfectly  inadmissible  for  toilettes.  How- 
ever, underneath  them  all,  Helene  found  a  light  grey 
material,  dotted  over  with  little  broche  stars  woven  in 
gold-colored  silk ;  it  was  odd,  but  very  pretty,  and  the 
young  girl  pointed  it  out  with  her  finger  to  her  judge, 
with  some  timidity. 

"  That  is  very  nice,"  said  the  latter  ;  "  we  must  see 
what  Madame  Moutine  will  say  about  it." 

Madame  Moutine  had  conceived  a  friendship  for 
Helene.  At  first  she  had  been  a  little  troubled  in 
regard  to  the  two  women  with  whom  her  friends  had 
encumbered  themselves,  she  was  anxious  about  their 
morality  and  the  plans  they  might  have  in  view,  but 
she  had  promptly  reassured  herself;  she  did  not  cer- 
tainly quite  do  justice  to  Madame  Mianof,  whom  she 
thought  less  worthy  of  esteem  than  she  really  was,  but 
ittle  Helene  had  inspired  her  with  a  tender  sympathy 
;hat  was  mingled  with  an  endless  compassion  for  the 
Door  little  creature  who  was  cast  so  early,  and  so  alone 
into  all  the  difficulties  of  life.  She  thought  the  mate- 
rial very  pretty  and  wished  to  procure  a  dress-maker  for 
Helene. 

"  No,"  said  Demiane  rather  embarrassed,  the  "  Prin- 
cess wishes  her  maid  to  make  the  dress." 

Helene,  who  was  humiliated,  hung  down  her  head. 


352  MARK  OF. 

She  did  not  wish  to  be  under  any  obligation  to  that 
arrogant  Princess,  even  for  the  making  of  a  dress ;  but 
De*miane  insisted  upon  it  and  she  was  obliged  to  yield, 
The  maid  came  and  carried  away  the  material,  and  told 
her  mistress  all  that  the  latter  wished  to  know ;  after 
which  the  noble  lady  bestowed  no  more  thought  upon 
the  little  pianiste  than  she  did  on  the  benches  in  the 
concert  hall.  Her  maid  had  told  her  that  she  waa 


MAR  EOF.  353 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

VICTOR     ANGRY. 

"  said  Raben  in  a  low  voice,  when  the  day 
for  the  concert  having  come,  the  young  girl 
appeared  upon  the  platform.  "  Those  who  told  you  so 
lad  not  looked  at  her !  What  hair,  what  eyes,  and 
what  a  pretty,  sweet  and  delicate  face !  That  Ddmiane 
is  a  lucky  rogue  !  " 

"  Eh !  "  said  the  Princess  turning  towards  him  with  a 
^learn  of  fury  in  her  strange  eyes. 

Raben  smiled  calmly  and  put  his  eye-glasses  on 
again. 

"See,  yourself,  Princess,  how  she  divines  his  least 
intentions,  how  she  follows  the  motion  of  his  bow ;  he 
does  not  think  any  more  about  the  piano  than  if  it  did 
not  exist ;  it  is  she  who  watches  over  everything  and 
who  seems  to  be  a  part  of  the  violin  itself.  One  must 
love  a  man  dearly  to  identify  oneself  with  him  in  such 
away!" 

Pshaw !"  said  Cle'opatre  who  had  regained  her  cool- 
ness which  had  been  disturbed  for  a  moment,  "  there  is 
no  love  in  that,  it  is  simply  mechanical." 

Do  you  think  so  ?  Look  ;  they  applaud  her  hero, 
and  it  is  she  who  blushes  with  pleasure.  Have  no  fear 
that  she  will  take  the  least  particle  of  his  triumph  to 
herself !  She  does  not  even  think  that  she  has  a  right 
to  any  praise,  she  enjoys  that  which  the  enthusiastic 
22 


354  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

crowd  —  brought  here  by  you,  clear  friend  —  lavishes 
on  the  man  she  loves.  And  that  innocent,  timid,  happy 
look  which  she  throws  on  him  just  as  he  takes  up  his 
bow  to  begin  again,  is  that  not  love  ?'  But  after  all,  I 
am  wrong,  perhaps,  to  take  you  as  a  judge  in  this ;  it  is 
a  kind  of  love  that  you  cannot  understand,  a 'stupid  arid 
commonplace  love  that  lives  of  itself  and  expects  noth- 
ing from  the  loved  one! — fools  love  in  this  way;  but 
you  are  too  clever —  " 

"  Take  care,"  said  the  Princess  in  a  very  low  voice 
and  with  -the  most  charming  smile,"  do  not  banter  me, 
for  I  might  desire  to  get  rid  of  you — the  Techerkesses 
of  these  mountains  do  not  think  much  of  a  man's 
life." 

"  You  would  not  dare  to  do  so,"  replied  Raben,  with 
the  same  calmness,  "you  know  that  I  can  be  very 
useful  to  you,  my  devotion  is  too  precious  to  you  — 
But  how  admirably  we  both  understand  joking,  do  we 
not?" 

She  smiled  and  her  smile  disclosed  her  fierce,  white 
teeth.  Helene,  who  was  looking  at  her  stealthily  as 
she  played,  felt  such  a  shiver  pass  over  her  when  she 
saw  this  expression  on  her  face,  that  she  missed  a  note. 
A  very  slight,  but  almost  brutal  sign  of  impatience, 
escaped  Demiane.  She  cast  down  her  head  humbly 
and  applied  herself  with  all  her  might  to  play  her  best. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Cleopatre,  "  she  loves  him  in  her 
sheepish  fashion;  but  he  does  not  love  her." 

"  How  could  he  love  her  ?  He  has  something  very 
different  in  his  head!  To  him,  she  does  not  even 
exist ! " 


MARKOF.  355 

The  Princess  smiled  again,  but  her  face  had  changed 
its  expression,  and  wore  for  the  rest  of  the  time  the 
look  of  peaceful  satisfaction  of  a  woman  who  adores 
music. 

When  the  concert  was  over,  De*miane  received  the 
congratulations  of  several  distinguished  personages,  and 
felt  himself  at  last  lord  of  the  land.  It  was  a  success 
which  he  owed  to  the  Princess.  He  wished  to  tell  her 
so,  and  to  thank  her,  but  she  had  disappeared  in  the 
gardens.  A  little  vexed,  he  returned  to  Hele"ne,  who 
was  arranging  the  music;  she  had  already  laid  the 
violin  in  its  case,  and  Victor  held  it  under  his  arm, 
ready  to  leave. 

"Are  you  coming?"  said  the  latter,  turning  towards 
the  door. 

Ddmiane  shrugged  his  shoulders  angrily. 

"  Would  not  one  say  that  I  cannot  go  out  alone  ? 
For  God's  sake,  leave  me  in  peace !  It  is  intolerable  to 
be  watched  over  like  this ! " 

At  the  first  words  of  this  speech,  Hdlene  left  the 
hall ;  with  her  long  train  caught  up  by  her  left  hand, 
and  with  a  little  bachlik  of  white  lace  on  her  head,  she 
walked  slowly  in  the  garden,  which  was  deserted  at 
this  hour,  when  every  one  returned  home  for  dinner. 
The  sun  hid  itself  behind  the  trees,  but  then  she  did 
not  fear  the  sun  any  more  than  the  Princess  Cldopatre. 
She  walked  with  her  head  cast  down,  going  round  the 
garden-plot  and  waited  for  Victor,  who  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  had  just  answered  his  brother  sharply. 
Her  sense  of  justice  told  her  that  De*miane  had  well 
deserved  some  reproaches,  and  yet  like  a  mother  who 


356  MARKOF. 

weeps  as  she  chastises  her  rebellious  child,  her  heart 
bled  for  the  guilty  one.  Suddenly  a  rapid  footstep 
made  a  noise  on  the  sand ;  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  saw 
before  her  the  Princess  Re'dine,  who  stopped. 

"Mademoiselle  He'lSne?"  said  the  noble  lady,  with 
kindness. 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  replied  the  young  girl,  bowing 
slightly. 

"  Would  you  kindly  play  a  little  this  evening  at  my 
house,  if  Monsieur  Markof  is  not  too  tired,  of  course  ? 
Do  you  think  he  can  come  ?  " 

Helene  looked  the  Princess  full  in  the  eyes,  and 
answered  in  her  clear,  sweet  voice : 

44 1  am  sure  he  will  be  happy  to  obey  your  commands, 
Madame." 

44  And  you?" 

44 1  accompany  Monsieur  Markof  whenever  it  pleases 
him  to  ask  me,"  replied  the  young  girl,  without  haugh- 
tiness, but  also  without  cordiality.  After  a  very  short 
silence  she  continued:- — 44 Since  I  have  the  honor  of 
speaking  to  you,  Madame,  permit  me  to  thank  you  for 
the  trouble  you  took  in  sending  me  your  maid  —  " 

44  The  dress  fits  you  very  well,"  said  the  Princess,  as 
she  examined  her  rival  from  her  head  to  her  feet ;  44  it 
is  a  little  odd,  but  very  pretty." 

44  Madame  is  very  kind,"  replied  Helene,  turning 
away  her  eyes. 

Cleopatre  looked  for  an  instant  longer  at  her  who 
thus  received  advances  from  a  lady  of  rank,  then 
she  bowed  to  her  haughtily,  and  went  away.  She 
felt  wounded  without  knowing  wherefore,  for  nothing 


3CARKQF.  357 

either  in  the  young  girl's  words  or  manner  could  give 
her  a  pretext  for  any  irritation.  She  consoled  herself 
by  thinking  that  this  little  savage  was  badly  brought 
up,  and  she  promised  herself  that  she  would  teach  her 
better  manners,  if  an  occasion  to  do  so  should  present 
itself. 

At  the  same  moment,  Victor  hastened  towards  Helene 
much  excited,  and  led  her  away  across  the  garden  to 
the  place  where  the  carriage  was  awaiting  them. 

"  The  violin  ? "  said  the  young  girl,  on  seeing  that 
the  precious  instrument  was  not  in  the  little  hunch- 
back's hands. 

"  Let  him  bring  it !  "  said  he,  as  he  sat  down  in  the 
carriage,  whose  door  he  shut  angrily ;  "  let  him  bring 
it  and  let  him  return  on  foot !  I  will  not  act  as  his  ser- 
vant !  Neither  shall  you,  Helene,  you  shall  not  mend 
his  linen  any  more ;  he  is  becoming  intolerable  with  his 
haughty  airs :  he  has  caught  them  at  the  Princess',  as 
one  catches  an  illness  !  And  it  is  worse  than  the  plague, 
most  assuredly !  But  I  am  his  elder  brother,  and  I  will 
not  allow  him  to  snub  me  !  From  to-night —  " 

"  To-night  we  are  going  to  the  Princess',''  said  He*l- 
Sne,  putting  her  little  supplicating  hand  on  the  arm  ot 
this  avenger  of  birthrights ;  "  I  implore  you,  my  good 
Victor,  do  not  scold  him  to-night ;  he  will  play  badly, 
and  you  know  the  harm  that  might  do  him !  He  has 
sensitive  nerves  —  " 

"  The  devil  take  his  nerves !  I  have  some  as  well, 
after  all !  And  you,  have  you  none  ?  " 

"  My  good  Victor,"  continued  Helene,  "  I  beseech 
you,  if  you  love  me,  don't  say  anything  to  him,  it  is 


358  MARK  OF. 

only  a  hard  moment  to  pass  through;  he  will  come 
back  to  us,  he  loves  us  — " 

At  these  words  she  burst  into  tears  and  suddenly 
covered  her  face  with  her  two  hands.  She  felt  so 
deeply  that  he  did  not  love  her !  The  carriage  stopped, 
she  wiped  her  eyes  hastily  with  her  little  handkerchief, 
and  jumped  out  with  a  calm  and  resigned  air.  She 
had  long  since  learned  how  to  assume  this  expression. 
But  who,  on  account  of  this,  would  have  dared  to  have 
accused  her  of  hypocrisy? 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  359 


CHAPTER  XL. 

LITTLE  HELENE  REVEALS  HERSELF. 

THE  Princess  had  invited  to  her  house  that  evening 
all  the  best  society  in  Piatigorsk ;  she  well  knew 
that  whenever  a  day  has  been  marked  by  some  event 
that  people's  nerves  are  more  excited,  their  minds  are 
more  animated,  that  men  are  cleverer  and  women  pret- 
tier, and  it  seems  as  though  every  one  has  an  excess  of 
vitality,  which  is  a  rare  thing  in  ordinary  existence ; 
so  she  threw  open  her  drawing-room  almost  regularly 
on  such  occasions.  There  was  no  need  of  a  particular 
invitation  ;  two  large  illuminated  lanterns  at  the  garden 
railing,  announced  to  people  that  there  would  be  a 
reception  at  the  villa  Redine,  and  all  those  who  had 
usual  access  to  it,  knew  that  they  could  present  them- 
selves. 

Ddmiane  went  there  with  Helene.  He  would  have 
preferred  to  have  gone  alone,  but  he  had  arrived  at 
that  period  of  his  fascination  when  the  least  desire  is 
a  command.  Until  then  he  had  floated  in  the  most 
vague  uncertainty ;  there  were  times  when  he  dared  to 
hope  everything ;  but  he  oftener  fell  from  his  heaven  an 
instant  afterwards,  called  back  to  reality  by  a  disdainful 
gesture,  an  absent  smile,  or  a  freezing  look  that  threw 
him  into  the  most  despairing  doubts.  His  complete 
moral  servitude  vis-a-vis  to  this  woman,  being  taken 
into  account,  whom  he  loved  passionately,  and  to  whom 


360  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

it  was  impossible  for  him  to  address  one  word  of  love, 
lie  could  in  consequence  only  obey  her  caprices.  He 
arrived  there  about  ten  o'clock,  anxious  and  discon- 
tented, but  firmly  hoping  that  this  evening  would  bring 
about  a  good  result  for  his  future.  The  calculator, 
which  in  De*miane  went  always  side-by-side  with  the 
artist,  whispered  in  his  ear  that  his  presence  among  so 
many  great  personages  could  not  fail  to  make  him  use- 
ful acquaintances;  our  friend  knew  too  little  of  the 
world  to  understand  that  in  inviting  Helene  to  come 
with  him  the  Princess  had  meant  to  send  him  back  to 
the  rank  of  a  simple  artist,  who  had  come  to  delight 
her  guests,  and  not  as  a  friend  who  was  received  on  an 
intimate  footing. 

Certain  women,  whose  principles  are  assuredly  not 
more  narrow  than  were  those  of  the  Princess,  and  who 
do  not  evince  any  more  severity  in  the  practice  of  them, 
can  love  men  who  are  inferior  to  them  in  position. 
Queens  have  been  known  to  marry  shepherds,  —  and 
even  not  to  marry  them  at  all,  which  was  something 
still  more  embarrassing.  But  they  make  a  sort  of  code 
of  honor  for  themselves,  which  obliges  them  to  elevate 
as  much  as  possible,  and  to  bring  near  to  them  in  posi- 
tion at  any  cost,  him  who  has  known  how  to  win  them 
over  to  his  cause.  This  need  of  building  a  pedestal  for 
the  man  they  have  chosen,  is  a  sort  of  rehabilitation 
to  them ;  it  is  even  an  unconscious  avowal  of  their 
weakness,  and  shows  a  desire  to  repair  it  as  far  as  is 
possible,  or  at  the  least,  to  excuse  it.  The  Princess  felt 
nothing  similar  to  this,  and  that  was  what  distinguished 
her  from  all  other  Delilahs ;  she  did  not  desire  to  see 


MARKOF.  361 

him  who  pleased  her,  great ;  what  was  the  use  of  it  ? 
what  could  she  have  gained  by  it  ?  On  the  contrary, 
should  the  chosen  one  become  so,  he  might  perhaps 
arrogate  some  rights  to  himself;  the  Princess  was  sat- 
isfied that  they  should  possess  a  gilded  mediocrity,  a 
modesty  full  of  charms,  that  would  attract  no  one's 
attention  either  to  themselves  or  their  history.  But 
she  had  taste,  and  never  looked  twice  at  a  fool,  though 
he  should  be  as  handsome  as  Antinous. 

She  received  the  two  artists  with  incomparable  grace ; 
never  had  Demiane  obtained  so  many  kind  words  from 
her  before ;  it  is  true,  that  Helene  received  almost  as 
many  for  her  share,  but  it  is  easy  to  suppose  that  people 
are  kind  to  our  friends  for  love  of  us,  and  this  was  what 
our  modest  artist  did  not  fail  to  say  to  himself. 

"  I  wished,"  said  Cleoputre,  as  she  conducted  them  to 
the  piano,  "  that  the  Prince,  who  was  deprived  of  the 
concert  a  little  while  ago,  should  have  his  small  share 
in  our  artistic  pleasure.  He  would  really  have  been 
too  unhappy  to  have  listened  to  us  talking  about  such  a 
fete  and  not  to  have  heard  the  least  echo  of  it." 

The  Prince  grumbled  an  assent ;  bonbons  and  music 
were  the  two  things  he  loved  most  in  the  world,  and 
then  the  guests  made  a  circle  in  order  to  listen. 

Helene  sat  on  the  piano  stool,  which  was  really  an 
instrument  of  torture  to  her,  with  a  resolution  full  of 
despair.  Until  then  she  had  made  a  total  renounce- 
ment of  self,  forgetting  herself  for  De*nriane,  only  happy 
in  completing  his  success,  and  unaware  that  she  might 
have  any  individual  worth;  this  worth,  she  felt  that 
she  possessed  however,  but  what  was  the  use  of  bring- 


362  MARKOF. 

ing  it  to  light?  The  necessity  of  being  no  longer  a 
shadow,  of  becoming  also  a  star,  became  apparent  to 
her  at  a  turn  of  a  pathway,  in  the  garden,  at  the  same 
time  with  the  Princess. 

"  They  make  no  account  of  me,"  she  said  to  herself ; 
"  I  am  going  to  prove  to  them  that  I  am  not  what  they 
suppose ;  and  who  knows  ?  perhaps  he  will  love  me 
better  for  it ! " 

At  the  way  in  which  she  played  the  few  bars  of  the 
prelude,  people  looked  at  each  other  in  the  drawing- 
room.  She  had  not  played  like  that  in  the  morning ; 
who  would  have  believed  that  the  little  accompanist 
was  capable  of  so  much  precision,  of  such  an  individual 
accent  ?  She  continued,  and,  singularly  enough,  the 
talent  which  she  developed  was  so  great  that  it  threw 
D&niane's  momentarily  into  the  shade.  He  felt  it,  and 
a  sort  of  rage  arose  in  his  heart :  — 

"  Ah  !  you  wish  to  play  better  than  I  do  ?  "  he  said 
mentally,  "  we  will  see  whether  you  are  capable  of  it." 

It  was  no  longer  the  submissive  accompaniment, 
destined  to  enhance  the  worth  of  the  violin's  song :  it 
was  a  struggle  between  the  two  instruments,  an  impas- 
sioned and  passionate  struggle,  in  which  Hel£ne  had 
the  upper  hand,  for  she  was  combatting  for  her  dignity, 
and  for  her  love,  while  Demiane  was  only  fighting  for 
his  pride. 

They  were  overwhelmed  with  sincere  applause  — 
they  love  music  almost  to  madness  in  Russia  —  and  the 
Princess,  addressing  herself  to  Ddmiane,  said  to  him 
with  an  accent  he  had  never  before  heard : 

"  You  have  surpassed  yourself  I  " 


MARK  OF,  363 

Raben,  who  had  quietly  approached  the  piano,  said 
to  little  Helene,  in  a  low  tone,  while  the  sound  of  the 
other  voices  covered  his : 

"  You  have  a  wonderful  talent ;  play  something  by 
yourself,  you  will  please  the  Princess." 

Helene  looked  at  him  undecidedly,  then  turned  her 
glance  upon  the  group  which  surrounded  De*miane,  and 
shook  her  head. 

"  No,  Monsieur,"  said  she ;  "  I  came  here  to  accom- 
pany Monsieur  Markof,  not  to  have  them  listen  to  me." 

Raben  took  off  his  eye-glass,  offered  a  chair  to  the 
little  pianist,  and  stood  up  before  her." 

"  I  must  compliment  you,  Mademoiselle,"  he  said  to 
her  with  as  much  deference  as  though  he  were  speaking 
to  the  inheritor  of  a  great  name,  "  you  give  proof  of  no 
ordinary  tact  and  modesty." 

She  received  the  praise  without  embarrassment ;  there 
are  hours  when  the  most  simple  young  girl  feels  her- 
self superior  to  everything,  either  criticism  or  praise; 
it  is  when  the  happiness  of  her  life  is  in  danger. 

"  You  have  a  great  deal  of  friendship  for  Monsieur 
Markof,  have  you  not  ? "  continued  Raben ;  "  you 
ought  to  advise  him  not  to  give  himself  up  to  the 
pleasures  of  society ;  more  than  one  has  lost  his  talent 
in  it,  his  faith  in  himself,  and  many  other  things 
besides.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  frightened,  and  made  a  sign  with 
her  head. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  your  friend  is  running  the  risk 
of  no  danger,  of  no  material  danger,  at  least ;  but  it 
may  come.  At  Monsieur  Markof  s  age,  one  should 


364  M  A  R  K  O  P  . 

work  a  great  deal  and  not  think  that  one  has  attained 
everything,  but  endeavor  to  do  better,  and  above  all,  to 
live  in  the  bosom  of  one's  family,  in  a  peaceful  home, 
amid  pure  joys  — " 

"  You  have  your  mother  still  with  you,  I  believe  ?  " 

Helene  made  a  motion  of  assent  without  replying: 
she  felt  her  heart  tighten  and  did  not  dare  to  saj  any- 
thing. 

"  You  ought  to  form  one  closely  united  family  -  you 
who  have  influence  over  Monsieur  Markof — " 

"  No,"  she  said  with  gentleness,  but  in  a  firm  voice, 
"  I  have  no  influence  over  Monsieur  Markof." 

He  looked  at  her  with  increased  kindness. 

"Try  to  acquire  it,"  said  he,  "you  will  do  him  a 
great  deal  of  good  —  Excuse  my  frankness,  Mademoi- 
selle, I  have  not  the  right  to  speak  to  you  in  this  way ; 
but  at  my  age,  one  can  consider  young  girls  of  yours, 
almost  as  children  —  " 

Never  had  Raben  spoken  about  his  age  before,  and  the 
Princess  would  have  laughed  heartily  if  she  had  heard 
this  new  language.  New  it  was  in  truth,  from  every 
point  of  yiew,  for  Raben  himself  had  just  felt  at  the 
sight  of  this  young  girl  a  strange  emotion  which  greatly 
resembled  a  tender  pity.  For  though  one  may  be  a 
diplomatist,  there  remains  in  the  heart  some  springs 
that  are  not  dried  up,  and  which  suddenly  burst  forth 
when  one  least  expects  it,  reviving  a  freshness  which  has 
been  thought  destroyed.  Raben  had  just  discovered 
one  of  these  springs. 

"  I  pass  for  a  bad  man,"  said  he  to  Helene,  perhaps 
to  excuse  his  unwonted  feeling.  "  I  am  one  sometimes, 
but  never  with  children  or  the  weak  ones  of  this  world.' 


MAR  EOF.  365 

He  rose  and  smiled,  and  went  to  join  the  group 
where  Demiane  was  triumphing,  leaving  the  little 
pianiste  to  follow  him  with  an  anxious  and  grateful 
look. 

They  began  to  play  again,  but  Hdlene  possessed  no 
longer  the  animation  that  had  so  excited  her  the  first 
time  ;  she  acquitted  herself  of  her  task  with  taste,  with 
talent,  but  in  a  way  to  make  Ddmiane  forgive  her  for 
the  wrong  she  had  previously  done.  Towards  mid- 
night, warned  by  a  glance  from  Raben,  Helene  said  to 
the  young  artist : 

"Is  it  not  time  for  us  to  go?"  He  looked  around 
him,  saw  that  they  had  forgotten  him,  and  understood 
that  the  moment  for  leaving  had  come.  Approaching 
the  Princess,  he  wished  to  address  a  few  words  of  thanks 
to  her,  but  she  interrupted  him  without  listening  to 
him: 

"  Till  to-morrow  at  ten  o'clock,"  said  she  ;  "  we  will 
then  continue  our  practising,  will  we  not  ?  Good-night, 
Mademoiselle,  I  thank  you."  And  she  turned  her  back 
on  them  with  unparalleled  grace. 

The  next  morning,  when  she  awoke,  Helene  found  in 
a  casket  that  had  been  brought  to  her  by  the  Princess' 
valet-de-pied,  a  gold  ring  ornamented  with  turquoises ; 
she  looked  at  it  for  a  long  time  and  gave  it  to  Victor, 
Saying  to  him : 

"  That  will  do  to  make  you  a  scarf  pin." 

He  wished  very  much  to  refuse  it,  but  on  reflection, 
said  to  himself  that  they  would  ask  what  had  become 
of  it,  and  he  put  it  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  without  any 
formality. 


366  MARKOF. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

PROTECTION. 


fl^EN  o'clock  sounded  when  Demiane,  who  had  not 
JL  yet  learned  the  great  art  of  not  being  quite  exact, 
and  yet  punctual,  ascended  the  steps  of  the  villa  Re'dine. 
The  anteroom  was  deserted,  the  drawing-room  also;  he 
walked  idly  about  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  sat  down 
in  an  arm-chair  a  little  impatiently.  Never  before  had 
he  received  such  a  welcome  ;  the  Princess  was  always 
there,  the  ante-room  was  always  full  of  servants  ;  this 
morning  the  house  seemed  dead. 

In  a  few  moments  a  maid  appeared. 

"  The  Princess  is  a  little  indisposed,  she  begs  that 
you  will  play  in  her  boudoir." 

Ddrniane  took  his  violin  case  and  followed  the  maid 
through  a  succession  of  differently  decorated  rooms 
which  he  had  never  seen.  Through  a  window  that 
looked  out  on  the  garden,  he  saw  disappearing  in  the 
distance  in  his  wheeled-chair  the  Prince,  who  was  going 
to  seek  shade  and  coolness  in  the  windings  of  the 
valley  ;  at  length,  the  last  door  was  reached,  the  maid 
knocked  twice  softly  and  passed  in  first,  followed  by 
Demiane  who  stopped  on  the  threshold. 

"Pray  shut  the  door!"  said  the  Princess  smiling, 
"you  make  a  draught  of  air  !  " 

He  obeyed  mechanically  ;  the  maid  had  disappeared 
no  one  knew  how,  and  he  was  alone  with  Clcopatre,  in 


M  ARKO  F  .  367 

a  room  which  was  rather  large,  which  had  a  high  ceil- 
ing, and  which  was  hung  in  brocaded  Caucasian  silk, 
with  changing  and  harmonious  shades.  Gildings  here 
and  there,  a  beautiful  Venetian  mirror  of  cut  crystal, 
an  upright  piano,  some  low  chairs  that  were  of  various 
forms,  composed  the  furniture.  There  were  vases 
everywhere,  and  in  these  vases  enormous  bouquets  of 
freshly  cut  roses  which  gave  forth  the  odor  that  is 
peculiar  to  these  flowers  when  they  have  just  been 
gathered,  —  an  odor  that  soon  changes,  and  which 
becomes  as  overpowering  as  it  is  sweet  during  the  first 
hour  after  they  have  been  cut. 

Cle'opatre,  half  lying  on  her  sofa,  and  surrounded 
with  floating  lace  and  clad  in  snowy  waves  of  muslin, 
with  bare  arms  and  her  neck  half-veiled,  seemed  over- 
come by  the  heat  and  fatigue.  However,  it  was  cool 
in  the  boudoir,  and  she  ought  not  to  have  been  wearied 
by  all  that  muslin.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  De'miane, 
who  was  greatly  agitated. 

"  I  am  not  ill,"  said  she,  answering  his  look ;  "  but  I 
am  weary  of  always  being  under  arms ;  you  will  not  be 
displeased  with  me  for  receiving  you  en  ntgligS — as  a 
friend?  Pray  sit  down." 

He  seated  himself  at  a  little  distance,  and  was  very 
much  embarrassed  to  know  what  to  do  with  himself. 
This  kindness,  the  amiable  familiarity  of  this  reception 
bewildered  him.  However,  he  had  something  to  say, 
that  his  frank  and  honest  nature  could  no  longer 
restrain,  and  he  spoke: 

"  I  owe  you  a  great  deal,  Princess,"  said  he ;  "  you 
have  encouraged,  guided  and  protected  me;  yesterday 


368  MARKOF. 

will  be  a  marked  day  in  my  life,  and  I  owe  it  to  you, 
Permit  me  to  express  my  gratitude  to  you  for  it." 

Cle*opatre  smiled. 

"  Child !  "  said  she  ;  "  what  a  great  child !  One  can 
amuse  you  with  a  rattle !  A  little  satisfied  vanity,  is 
not  that  a  fine  reason  for  gratitude?" 

He  wished  to  reply,  but  she  stopped  him  with  a 
motion. 

"  No,"  continued  she,  "  let  us  talk  of  something  else. 
Why  have  you  never  told  me  that  you  are  so  intimate 
with  Mademoiselle  HelSne  ?  " 

"I?"  exclaimed  Ddmiane,  rising,  and  with  the  most 
sincere  vehemence ;  "  I  do  not  even  know  the  color  of 
her  eyes ! " 

"  She  knows  very  well  the  color  of  yours !  "  replied 
the  Princess,  smiling;  "although  you  seem  desirous  of 
making  me  believe  you  are  not  so  intimate " 

She  stopped  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  the  passionate 
denial  that  De*miane  had  upon  his  lips. 

"  You  should  not  allow  her  to  make  her  affection  for 
you  so  conspicuous.  I  understand  that  in  private  you 
would  not  attach  much  importance  to  such  demonstra- 
tions which  are  after  all,  only  childish ;  but  in  public 
you  should  advise  her  to  be  more  prudent." 

"  Little  He'lene  ?  "  said  Ddmiane,  thus  betraying  his 
disdain  for  the  poor  child;  "she  makes  her  affection 
for  me  conspicuous?  Pardon  me,  Princess,  I  do  not 
understand ! " 

"You  are  not  going  to  pretend,"  the  Princess  an- 
swered, with  a  malicious  delight  in  her  eyes,  "  that  you 
do  not  know  that  she  loves  you." 

"  She  loves  me  ?     Who  ?     Little  Hdlene  ?  " 


MARK  OF.  369 

"  It  is  so  visible,  that  I  am  inclined  to  doubt  the 
good  faith  of  your  astonishment ! "  replied  the  Princess, 
who  was  delighted  with  her  success. 

44  She  is  a  silly  thing !  "  exclaimed  Ddmiane,  who  was 
divided  between  the  satisfaction  to  his  pride,  which  the 
idea  of  knowing  himself  loved  caused  him,  and  the 
mortification  of  having  to  offer  in  sacrifice  to  his 
goddess  so  small  a  thing  as  little  H  clone's  love;  but 
one  gives  what  one  has,  and  after  all  to  do  that  is 
satisfactory. 

"  Not  so  silly!  "  said  the  Princess,  with  so  enigmati- 
cal a  smile,  so  sweet  a  look,  that  Ddmiane,  who  had 
suddenly  grown  very  bold,  left  his  chair  and  went  and 
sat  on  a  cushion,  which  was  at  the  foot  of  the  sofa. 
No  one  could  ever  imagine  how  much  self-possession  he 
had  acquired  in  knowing  himself  loved  by  the  little 
pianiste. 

"  She  has  known  how  to  discover  your  merits,  which 
is  a  proof  of  intelligence.  Then  you  do  not  love  her?" 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world !  "  exclaimed  the  artist, 
earnestly. 

"It  is  a  pity!" 

"Why?" 

"Because  —  because  it  does  a  man  credit  to  make 
victims." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Ddmiane,  with  a  haughty  air,  that  was 
destined  to  prove  that  little  Helene  and  nothing  were 
quite  the  same.  Emboldened  by  the  Princess'  look,  he 
added : 

"  You  know  very  well  that  I  cannot  love  any  one  of 
those  who  surround  me  —  " 
23 


370  MARKOF. 

"You  have  not  yet  made  me  any  confidences!"  said 
Cle'opatre,  in  an  ironical  way. 

"  Do  not  joke  with  me,"  continued  he,  his  lips  trem- 
bling with  emotion.  "If  you  should  turn  me  out  of 
doors,  now,  it  would  be  very  unkind,  Princess,  very 
unkind;  you  know  it  well — " 

She  smiled  and  looked  at  him  again ;  she  had  raised 
herself  a  little  on  her  elbows,  and  was  quite  close  to 
him,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  those  of  the  young  man,  as 
though  she  were  seeking  to  read  in  them  a  page  that 
was  still  new. 

"  You  are  a  great  child,"  said  she,  almost  in  a  whisper, 
"a  great  artist,  a  man  of  genius,  but  a  child — what 
more  must  one  say  to  you  ?  " 

He  approached  her  fascinated;  she  half  closed  her 
eyes  and  said  in  a  still  lower  voice : 

"  And  that  is  why  I  love  you !  " 

How  many  others  had  Cle'opatre  told  that  they  had 
genius?  It  was  her  way  of  convincing  them,  and  it 
had  always  succeeded. 


MARKOF.  371 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

A    ROSE. 

DEMIANE  passed  the  rest  of  that  clay  in  wandering 
about  on  the  mountain :  he  had  need  of  air  and 
of  exercise  in  order  to  re-establish  a  sort  of  equilibrium 
in  his  mind.  So  many  diverse  impressions  were  clash- 
ing together  in  his  brain,  so  many  new  sensations  made 
his  heart  beat  and  his  arteries  throb,  that  he  could  not 
return  home  without  having  meditated  on  the  new  turn 
his  life  had  taken. 

What  overpowered  all  else  in  him,  what  produced  on 
his  artistic  organization  the  effect  of  a  discordant  note 
that  was  held  with  a  cruel  and  unsatisfied  persistence, 
was  a  discontent,  a  disappointment,  which  he  could  not 
overcome.  He  had  thrown  at  the  Princess'  feet,  all 
that  was  most  noble,  most  generous,  most  elevated  in 
him,  during  those  two  hours  of  intoxication  that  he 
had  passed  in  the  boudoir  of  roses;  he  had  poured  his 
Boul,  that  was  overflowing  with  joy  and  pride,  on  the 
beautiful  hands  which  Cldopatre  had  allowed  him  to 
kiss  with  a  smile  of  triumph. 

"  I  will  become  great  through  you  and  for  you,"  he 
said ;  "  I  will  compose  a  chef-d'oeuvre  and  write  your 
name  upon  it !  Thanks  to  you  I  shall  henceforth  be  a 
man;  yesterday  I  was  only  a  child;  you  have  given 
me  everything ! " 

She  listened  to  him  without  interrupting  him,  and 


372  MARK  OF. 

seemed  happy ;  but  just  as  the  clock  struck  twelve,  she 
had  sent  away  the  young  artist,  in  spite  of  his  protesta- 
tions. While  he  was  bidding  her  adieu,  putting  all  his 
love  in  a  word,  in  a  glance,  in  an  embrace,  she  looked 
vacantly  over  his  shoulder,  and  this  cold  look  had 
frozen  Demiane's  heart.  He  felt  that  it  was  not  she 
who  belonged  to  him,  but  he  who  belonged  to  her; 
she  had  kept  herself  in  reserve,  or  rather  had  taken 
herself  back  again,  and  even  after  those  two  hours,  he 
felt  that  he  had  no  more  right  to  her  than  if  he  had 
never  entered  that  boudoir. 

This  thought  irritated  him,  and  at  the  same  time 
inspired  him  with  a  more  ardent  desire  to  pass  again 
another  hour  such  as  those  he  had  spent  that  morning ; 
but  the  Princess  had  promised  nothing;  everything 
was  left  to  the  chance  of  circumstance  or  to  Cleopatre's 
caprice,  and  Demiane  felt  humiliated,  after  having  given 
himself  wholly,  not  to  have  gained  anything  in  return. 

Nothing !  not  even  a  promise,  not  one  of  those  words 
which  bind  one  to  another,  not  even  a  perfume  re- 
maining in  his  hair,  in  his  clothes;  roses  belong  to 
everybody ;  in  that  land  of  roses,  the  poorest  s-e wing- 
woman  can  have  them  on  her  work-table.  Cleopatre 
was  prudent ;  for  fear  of  involuntary  indiscretions,  she 
never  used  any  perfume  except  when  she  went  into 
public. 

He  walked  for  two  or  three  hours  led  by  chance,  and 
then  sat  down  on  a  fragment  of  rock,  under  the  shade 
of  some  scant  bushes,  in  a  lonely  and  desolate  place. 
He  saw  a  plain  before  him,  with  a  dried-up  river  run- 
ning through  it,  whose  bed,  sown  with  pebbles,  made  a 


MARK  OF.  373 

wide  gray  furrow  in  the  short  grass,  that  was  already 
turning  yellow.  He  was  weary  with  his  wandering, 
but  more  weary  still  with  the  load  that  weighed  upon 
his  mind. 

"She  mistrusts  me,"  he  said  to  himself,  clasping  his 
head  in  his  two  feverish  hands ;  "  she  has  accepted  my 
love,  and  yet  she  has  no  confidence.  What  have  I 
done  to  lose  her  esteem?  What  enemy  can  have 
calumniated  me  ?  " 

Raben's  distinguished  and  clever  profile  passed 
through  his  mind,  and  he  trembled,  thinking  that  he 
had  made  a  discovery.  Raben  displeased  him  because 
he  was  too  intimate  with  the  Princess.  While  saying 
to  himself  that  she  could  never  have  loved  him  —  the 
diplomatist's  forty-eight  years  seemed  so  prodigiously 
old  to  Ddmiane's  twenty-four!  —  he  found  in  the  evi- 
dent intimacy  of  these  two  persons  enough  to  feed  that 
need  of  jealousy  that  lies  at  the  bottom  of  every  lover's 
heart.  He  said  to  himself  that  Raben  must  have  dis- 
paraged him,  and  he  immediately  took  a  dislike  to  him 
with  that  extraordinary  discrimination  which  distin- 
guishes those  who  are  just  beginning  life. 

He  said  to  himself,  and  he  repeated  it  over  and  over, 
that  the  Princess  did  not  love  him.  But  if  she  did  not 
love  him,  why  had  she  given  herself  to  him?  This 
problem  was  not  one  of  those  which  Ddmiane  was  capa- 
ble of  solving,  and  as  nothing  is  more  humiliating  than 
to  confess  to  oneself  that  one  is  ignorant,  he  tried  to 
delude  himself. 

"  She  loves  me,"  thought  he,  "  but  she  is  aware  of 
the  usual  fatuity  of  young  men,  and  she  hides  her 


374  MARKOF. 

affection  from  me  in  order  to  make  me  love  her  the 
more." 

This  conclusion  satisfied  his  self-love,  and  he  declared 
himself  pleased  with  it.  His  heart  still  murmured  a 
little,  but  Cleopatre  was  so  beautiful,  so  fascinating,  the 
least  word  that  fell  from  her  lips  was  so  priceless,  that 
he  reproached  himself  for  his  fancies  and  took  the  road 
to  the  town  in  a  calmer  frame  of  mind. 

He  returned  to  his  lodging,  prepared  for  a  lecture, 
for  the  night  was  falling  and  he  had  not  appeared  there 
during  the  day;  to  his  great  amazement,  everybody 
received  him  as  though  he  had  not  left  them,  without 
any  questions,  without  any  surprise.  In  spite  of  his 
surprise  he  resigned  himself  to  this  amiable  reception ; 
but  towards  ten  o'clock  he  could  not  help  rushing  off 
to  the  villa  Redine.  He  found  the  Princess  in  full 
toilette,  smiling  as  she  usually  did,  while  he  trembled 
inwardly  from  his  head  to  his  feet,  as  he  touched  that 
hand,  which,  a  few  hours  before,  had  caressed  his  brown 
curls ;  she  said  good  evening  to  him  with  the  greatest 
calmness,  and  ordered  the  butler  to  bring  him  a  cup 
of  tea. 

He  had  certainly  thought  that  she  would  have  some 
control  over  herself,  but  not  to  this  degree  ;  and  that 
she  would  affect  an  indifferent  manner,  but  not  with 
that  naturalness ;  and  the  same  sadness  which  he  felt 
in  the  afternoon  passed  over  him  with  a  cold  shiver. 
Almost  directly  afterwards  his  eyes  filled  with  a  soft 
light,  and  warmth  returned  to  his  heart.  The  Princess 
wore  a  rose  at  her  waist  —  one  of  those  roses  from  the 
boudoir,  without  doubt  —  and  it  was  to  recall  his  morn- 
ing's dream  to  him. 


"  M  A  R  K  O  F  .  375 

44  You  have  too  delighted  a  look,  Monsieur  Markof," 
said  Cleopatre,  carelessly  to  him,  who  was  remarking 
him  very  closely,  and  who  feared  some  foolishness  on 
the  part  of  this  novice  in  life.  "  Something  very  fortu- 
nate must  have  happened  to  you  to-day?" 

44  Fortunate  in  truth,  madame ! "  he  replied,  with  a 
trembling  in  his  voice  which  caused  the  Princess  a 
great  deal  of  annoyance. 

44  He  looks  like  the  poor  fellow  who  plays  the  lovers 
at  the  Theatre  Michel ! "  thought  she,  with  vexation. 
44  Mon  Dieu  !  how  stupid  he  is  not  to  understand." 

44 1  will  wager,"  said  Raben,  who  was  observing  them 
both  from  the  depths  of  his  arm  chair,  and  who  had 
made  sure  that  there  was  44  something  new  "  from  the 
awkwardness  and  excitement  of  the  young  man,  as 
well  as  from  an  expression  of  bad  temper  which  the 
Princess's  lips  had  assumed,  44 1  will  wager  that  you  had 
a  good  receipt  yesterday  ?  " 

44 1  believe  so,"  replied  Ddmiane,  blushing  with  anger ; 
why  did  that  courtier  remind  him  here  that  he  earned 
his  living  by  his  violin.  44 1  know  nothing  about  it,  to 
tell  the  truth,"  he  continued,  44  it  is  my  brother  who 
attends  to  all  that." 

44  Then  the  Shah  of  Persia,  our  neighbor,  must  have 
I  sent  you  a  decoration  by  telegraph,"  said  the  Princess, 
44  for  upon  my  word  !  one  does  not  wear  a  happy  look 
like  that  for  nothing !  " 

She  turned  her  back  on  him  to  go  and  speak  to  her 
husband,  and  Raben  approached  him  indifferently : 

44 1  went  to  see  you  a  little  while  ago,"  said  he  to 
I  Domiane  ;  and  I  did  not  find  you,  to  my  great  regret  • 


376  MARKOF. 

there  will  be  a  concert  given  for  the  benefit  of  the  Cau- 
casian wounded ;  you  will  be  very  kind  not  to  refuse  us 
your  assistance." 

Demiane  bowed  in  silence,  and  Raben  examined  him 
very  closely  without  his  eye-glass.  This  examination 
satisfied  him,  without  doubt,  for  he  cut  it  short  and 
began  a  conversation  on  music  with  the  young  man,  in 
which  he  astonished  him  by  the  extent  of  his  knowl- 
edge. Although  our  friend  held  himself  at  a  distance, 
on  account  of  his  preconceived  idea  of  seeing  an  enemy 
in  the  diplomatist,  he  could  not  help  recognizing  that  a 
less  courteous  enemy  would  have  left  him  to  endure 
Cleop&tre's  ill  humor ;  and  if  he  did  not  bestow  upon 
him  much  more  sympathy,  he  could  not  prevent  himself 
from  according  him  some  esteem. 


MARKOF.  377 

CHAPTER   XLIII. 

DEMIANE     IS     TOO     EXACTING. 

A  GENERALLY  received  opinion  gives  to  every 
j_X  clay  a  morrow;  but  Demiane's  dream  seemed 
destined  to  make  an  exception  to  this  rule,  for  during 
three  times  twenty-four  hours  he  could  not  succeed  in 
meeting  the  Princess'  eyes,  except  in  the  most  formal 
and  coldest  manner.  The  sense  of  independence  which 
was  carried  to  a  great  degree  in  the  young  man,  rebelled 
at  this  sort  of  slavery  in  which  Cle'opatre  controlled  his 
passion,  which  had  been  brought  to  its  climax.  And  a 
great  deal  of  irritation  began  to  mingle  with  Ddmiane's 
love. 

Certain  passions  flow  peacefully,  like  the  streams  in 
the  "pays  de  Tendre"  between  pleasant  banks,  with  a 
few  chance  obstacles  in  their  way,  such  as  a  bank  that 
is  steeper  than  others,  the  stump  of  a  tree  thrown  across 
them,  perhaps  innocently,  which  are  intended  rather  to 
beautify  the  landscape  than  to  trouble  the  current  of 
the  river ;  when  such  passions  overflow,  it  is  in  a  stream 
of  tears,  that  do  no  harm  to  any  one ;  with  a  little 
cambric  and  a  few  kind  words,  peace  is  soon  made. 
Ddmiane's  love  was  not  of  this  kind.  Still  less  did  he 
understand  submission  to  the  loved  woman ;  in  the 
republican  ideas  of  this  revolutionary  person  who  knew 
nothing  of  diplomacy,  the  Princess,  in  opening  her  arms 
to  him,  had  made  him  her  equal.  Henceforth  there 


378  MARK  OF. 

was  no  longer  the  Princess  Refine  and  the  low- 
born, penniless  violinist;  there  was  Ddmiane  and  Cle*- 
opatre,  exactly  as  there  had  formerly  been  Daphnis  and 
Chloe. 

This  belief  might  meet  with  some  contradictions; 
but  Ddmiane  did  not  take  them  into  consideration.  So 
on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  he  wrote  the  Princess  a 
fiery  letter,  in  which  he  accused  her  of  making  sport  of 
him,  and  of  not  having  any  heart.  On  the  perusal  of 
this  singular  love-letter,  Cleopatre,  instead  of  laughing, 
slowly  drew  her  brows  together,  and  remained  buried 
in  deep  meditation.  This  displeased  her ;  she  had  no 
idea  of  giving  herself  a  master,  no  matter  who  it  might 
be,  and  least  of  all,  this  unknown  musician,  who  for  his 
greatest  claim,  alleged  that  he  had  passed  two  hours  in 
her  boudoir !  Never  had  such  a  thing  happened  to  her 
before  in  the  whole  course  of  her  life;  but  that  was 
because,  until  now,  she  had  never  been  loved  save  by 
well-bred  people,  men  of  the  world,  who  knew  exactly 
what  they  could  say,  what  they  could  ask,  and  what 
they  ought  never  to  exact. 

De'miane  was  not  well-bred ;  he  had  superficially  pol- 
ished himself  with  civilization.  He  knew  at  the  most, 
how  to  enter  a  room  and  how  to  leave  it,  how  to  talk 
and  walk  like  the  rest  of  the  world ;  but  the  undisci- 
plined boy  who  had  fled  from  the  paternal  home,  rather 
than  return  to  the  Seminary,  reappeared  at  the  least 
blow  and  roughly  pierced  through  the  worldly  envel- 
ope. It  was  this  element  of  uncivilization  which  gave 
him  his  originality  —  it  was  perhaps  this  which  made 
the  Princess  distinguish  him  with  her  favors; — but 


MARKOF.  379 

what  was  a  charm  might  become  a  danger,  and  Cle*- 
opatre,  for  an  instant,  repented  in  great  sincerity  that 
she  had  not  foreseen  this  possibility.  It  was  the  first 
time  in  her  life  that  she  experienced  a  feeling  akin  to 
regret,  and  she  was  much  surprised  at  it ;  but  her  new 
proteg6  had  many  other  astonishments  in  reserve  for 
her! 

The  next  morning,  bidden  as  he  had  been  before  to 
go  to  her  at  ten  o'clock,  he  was  likewise  led  into  the 
boudoir,  where  he  found  the  Princess  standing,  clad  in 
Persian  silk  of  sombre  colors,  wrapped  up  to  her  throat, 
wearing  a  haughty  look  and  ready  to  address  him  the 
sharpest  lecture  about  the  impropriety  of  his  letter. 
She  expected  to  see  a  despondent  man,  mad  with  love, 
appear  before  her,  who  would  cry  her  mercy  from  her 
cruelty,  who  would  implore  her  to  give  him  her  hands 
to  kiss,  which  would  at  last  give  her  the  rare  and 
exquisite  delight  of  feeling  herself  absolute  mistress  of 
the  unfortunate  creature,  both  of  his  body  and  soul. 
Her  expectation  was  disappointed. 

44  How  did  you  dare  to  write  me  that  ridiculous 
letter?"  said  she  as  she  saw  him  appear. 

"And  you,"  returned  De*miane,  "how  have  you 
dared  to  treat  me  like  a  stranger,  after  what  has  hap- 
pened here  ?  " 

She  trembled  and  looked  him  in  the  face  with  the 
movement  of  a  viper  caught  in  his  nest.  She  met  two 
eyes  flaming  with  anger  and  which  looked  as  though 
they  did  not  fear  her  the  least  in  the  world. 

These  two  looks  met  for  an  instant  and  De*miane's 
did  not  falter ;  it  was  not  tenderness  that  he  felt  for 


380  MARKOF. 

her,  this  woman's  soul  mattered  little  to  him ;  what  he 
wished  from  her,  was  what  she  had  before  given  him, 
the  double  intoxication  of  love  and  of  pride. 

Demiane  was  so  handsome  in  his  threatening  attitude, 
that  the  Princess  had  not  the  courage  to  maintain  her 
severity  towards  him.  She  burst  out  laughing  and  sat 
down  in  an  arm-chair.  He  seated  himself  in  front  of 
her. 

"  You  have  the  worst  taste  possible,  mon  cher"  said 
she  to  him,  continuing  to  laugh.  "  People  do  not  do 
such  things ! " 

"  What  do  they  not  do  ?  To  my  mind,  one  has  no 
right  to  say  to  a  man :  I  love  you !  and  then  to  leave 
him  at  the  door,  for  three  days,  like  a  dog ! " 

"  I  would  observe  to  you  that  you  have  been  received 
here  every  evening " 

"In  your  drawing-room!"  interrupted  Demiane, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  "like  your  friends,  like  your 
Raben,  whom  I  hate " 

"  You  do  so  much  honor  to  that  dear  Count  ?  And 
why?  Because  he  is  paying  attention  to  Mamselle 
IMene?" 

Demiane,  who  was  astonished,  looked  at  the  Princess 
with  amazement. 

"Do  you  know  nothing  about  it?  They  don't  tell 
you  every  thing,  mon  cher.  Leave  him  alone  then! 
What  can  that  matter  to  you  ?  " 

"It  matters  nothing  to  me,"  he  continued,  regain- 
ing his  calmness.  "You  receive  me  in  your  drawing- 
room  like  a  stranger;  it  is  here  that  I  desire  to  be 
received." 


MARKOF.  381 

"  The  king  says  '  we  desire,' "  said  Cle*opatre,  in 
French,  with  an  ironical  tone. 

"  Your  French  niceties,"  replied  D^miane,  "  change 
nothing  in  the  present  case ;  I  am  a  Russian,  and  speak 
to  you  in  Russ.  You  are  making  sport  of  me,  and  I  do 
not  allow  people  to  do  so." 

"  Then,  do  not  be  ridiculous,"  said  the  Princess, 
smiling.  "  Is  this  all  that  you  have  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

"This  first!"  grumbled  De'miane,  who  felt  himself 
growing  weak  at  the  sight  of  her  irresistible  smile. 

"And  then?" 

"And  then,  that  I  love  you,  that  you  know  it  well, 
and  that  you  amuse  yourself  in  torturing  me.  I 
have  asked  myself  twenty  times,  since  the  other  day, 
if  I  had  not  dreamed." 

She  nestled  herself  in  her  arm-chair,  folding  her  arms 
and  half  closing  her  eyes. 

"  That  is  right,"  said  she,  in  the  sweet  and  drowsy 
voice  that  made  her  so  different  from  her  usual  self,  "  it 
is  best  always  to  believe  that  one  has  dreamed " 

"Why?" 

"  Because  one  may  go  to  sleep  again,  and  then  —  the 
dream  begins  anew." 

Ddmiane,  who  was  half  wild,  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
and  clasped  her  to  him  passionately ;  but  she  said  noth- 
ing and  continued  to  smile. 

When  she  was  alone  again,  the  Princess  walked  two 
or  three  times  round  her  boudoir,  touching  mechanically 
the  things  that  met  her  hand,  then  she  stopped  before 
her  writing-table  and  took  up  a  delicately  carved  ivory 
paper-cutter  which  she  bent  like  a  supple  whalebone 


382  MARKOF. 

between  her  two  fingers.  This  pastime  seemed  to 
distract  her  from  her  nervous  irritation ;  but,  suddenly, 
the  ivory,  which  was  too  much  strained,  broke  with  a 
sharp  noise  and  the  two  pieces  flew  in  different  direc- 
tions. 

"No,"  she  said  to  herself,  almost  aloud,  without 
bestowing  a  thought  upon  the  pretty,  destroyed  work 
of  art;  "if  he  puts  himself  on  that  footing,  it  will  be 
insupportable.  I  will  not  have  it." 

She  rang,  and  they  brought  her  breakfast  to  her. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  383 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 

INDEPENDENC  E. 

DEMIANE,  who  became  calmer  in  proportion  as  he 
grew  more  accustomed  to  the  strangeness  of  his 
situation,  began  to  look  about  him.  Many  things  that 
had  at  first  passed  unperceived  in  the  tumult  of  his 
thoughts,  returned  to  him  now,  and  provoked  some 
serious  reflections  in  him.  A  word  uttered  by  Cle'o- 
ptitre  during  their  first  interview  in  the  boudoir,  had 
at  first  astonished,  then  flattered  him,  and  later,  after  a 
more  deliberate  examination,  he  had  begun  to  doubt 
the  Princess'  perspicuity. 

Helene  loved  him,  she  said  ?  Certainly  it  did  not 
seem  as  though  she  did!  For  since  the  memorable 
evening  at  the  villa  Redine,  little  Helene  on  the  con- 
trary appeared  at  all  times  freer  and  more  independent ; 
she  had  not  ceased  being  sweet  and  obliging,  but  in  her 
behavior,  as  well  as  in  her  playing,  she  gave  evidence 
of  a  more  marked  individuality.  If  De*miane  had 
known  why  such  a  change  had  taken  place,  it  would 
not  have  failed  to  have  increased  still  more  his  antip- 
athy to  Raben ;  fortunately  he  was  not  aware  of  it. 

When  the  diplomatist  had  made  his  visit  to  our 
friends'  house,  he  had  not  found  Demiane  there,  who, 
by  the  way,  he  knew  was  absent.  But  he  had  talked 
for  a  long  time  with  the  three  other  members  of  this 
odd  association,  who  were  Bohemian  in  their  ways  and 


384  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

bourgeois  in  their  instincts,  and  he  was  convinced  of  the 
perfect  honesty  of  all  of  them.  In  Madame  Mianof's 
presence,  who  on  the  occasion  had  had  the  courage  to 
sit  up  straight  on  a  chair  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  he  had 
advised  little  Helene  to  overcome  her  useless  timidity, 
he  had  persuaded  her  that  she  possessed  the  making  of 
a  distinguished  pianist  in  herself,  and  that  she  ought  to 
play  a  solo  at  the  proposed  concert  for  the  Caucasian 
wounded.  Vainly  did  the  young  girl  allege  her  inex- 
perience, and  even  her  inability.  Raben  had  not  passed 
twenty  years  in  all  the  European  courts  not  to  know 
how  to  overcome  such  honorable  scruples;  he  secured  a 
promise  about  her  little  solo,  and  withdrew  delighted. 
He  felt  himself  on  the  road  to  a  good  work,  or  at  least, 
what  he  was  pleased  to  consider  as  such,  and  this 
employment,  which  was  different  from  those  which 
until  now  had  won  him  decorations  from  every  known 
legation,  gave  rise  to  something  very  sweet  and  new  in 
his  mind. 

If  Ddmiane  had  had  no  knowledge  of  this  conversa- 
tion, it  was  because  during  the  week  that  had  followed 
it,  they  had  scarcely  seen  him  at  home,  and  when  he 
had  deigned  to  show  himself  there,  it  was  sometimes 
with  a  brow  "  loaded  with  care,"  as  they  say  in  trage- 
dies, sometimes  with  an  exuberance  of  gayety  which 
left  no  room  for  anything  except  his  own  conversation, 
and  sometimes  with  a  dignity  full  of  pride,  which  told 
his  friends  how  much  he  was  their  superior.  But  when 
he  had  balanced  his  mind,  he  perceived  that  little 
HelSne  remained  much  less  with  him  than  formerly, 
that  she  practised  a  great  deal  more  on  her  piano,  and 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  385 

that  between  the  three  friends  there  reigned  a  sort  of 
tacit  understanding,  which  consisted  in  doing  admirably 
without  his  presence,  and  in  making  him  feel  that  it 
was  not  in  the  least  necessary. 

Victor  had  invented  this  way  of  proving  to  De*miane 
that  he  was  in  the  wrong.  But  it  proved  nothing, 
because  wrongs  are  felt  and  are  not  proven,  but  the 
young  man,  who  was  much  piqued  at  seeing  himself 
thus  excluded  from  the  family  circle,  endeavored  to 
resume  his  former  place  in  it,  the  one  which  the  others 
had  allowed  him  to  take,  in  deference  to  his  talent. 

He  found  a  little  resistance  that  was  as  delicate  and 
soft  as  one  of  those  small  silk  cords  with  which  the 
Grand  Viziers  have  the  honor  of  strangling  themselves 
by  the  Sultan's  orders.  Their  faces  were  always  smil- 
ing, their  words  always  affable,  their  actions  full  of 
affection  and  forethought,  but  all  this  said  plainly  to 
him :  "  You  have  friends  elsewhere,  go  to  your  friends, 
my  dear  Ddmiane ;  your  absence  does  not  disturb  us  at 
all,  oh!  not  at  all;  do  not  force  yourself,  through 
politeness,  to  give  us  any  time  which  you  might  better 
employ." 

Though  he  tried  to  prove  that  his  time  belonged  to 
himself,  that  he  had  no  friends  elsewhere  —  the  small 
silk  cord  remained  stretched  between  him  and  the 
three  others,  who  seemed,  moreover,  perfectly  happy. 

When  they  brought  him  the  order  for  the  programme 
for  the  concert,  so  that  he  might  write  thereon  the 
names  of  the  pieces  he  intended  to  play,  he  read  on  it 
with  infinite  surprise  :  "  G-rande  Polonaise  by  Chopin, 
played  by  Mademoiselle  H.  Mianof." 
24 


386  MARKOF. 

"You!"  said  he  to  the  young  girl,  who  with  her 
work  in  her  hands  was  anxiously  awaiting  the  words 
that  would  fall  from  his  omnipotent  lips. 

She  replied  b}7  a  motion,  as  was  her  habit. 

"  You  ?  You  are  not  thinking  of  such  a  thing !  To 
play  a  solo  before  all  those  people  !  " 

"Do  you  think  I  am  not  capable  of  it?"  she  asked 
with  a  sort  of  coquetry,  which,  though  new  to  her,  had 
none  the  less  charm. 

"I  think,"  he  replied,  a  little  displeased  without 
knowing  why,  "  that  if  you  were  not  capable  of  it  you 
would  not  expose  yourself  to  a  public  fiasco.  But  you 
have  always  protested  your  repugnance  to  solos  —  I  did 
not  suppose  that  you  had  time  to  change  your  ideas." 

"  It  does  not  take  long  to  change  many  ideas !  " 
returned  HelSne  vivaciously,  and  blushed  immediately 
at  her  audacity. 

D£miane  looked  at  her  with  an  increasing  trouble  in 
his  mind.  Had  that  little  girl  divined  his  feelings  for 
the  Princess,  or  why  was  she  making  allusion  to  a  liking 
she  had  for  him,  and  which  she  had  overcome  enough 
not  to  think  of  it  any  more?  The  thought  that  he 
might  have  been  loved  even  by  little  Helene,  and  that 
he  was  so  no  longer,  was  very  disagreeable  to  him.  He 
did  not  care  at  all  for  the  little  girl,  be  it  understood ; 
but  if,  after  having  loved  him,  she  had  allowed  herself 
to  take  back  her  heart,  it  would  be  manifestly  absurd ! 
What  had  he  done  that  his  accompanist  should  think 
less  of  him  ?  A  most  clear  examination  of  conscience 
proved  to  him  that  he  had  done  nothing  to  make  any 
one  in  the  world  think  less  of  him.  His  feelings  for 


MARK  OF.  387 

Cl^opatre  had  absolutely  nothing  to  do  with  those  of 
his  friends  towards  him,  that  was  as  plain  as  the  day. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  say  ?  "  he  asked  at  length. 
Concluding  that  this  question  was  perhaps  the  only 
means  of  enlightening  himself. 

"Man  Dieu!"  she  replied,  very  much  ashamed  at 
having  said  so  much,  "  people  have  ideas  and  change 
them,  do  they  not  ?  It  is  not  a  rare  thing.  It  happens 
to  every  one,  to  yourself." 

"  There  is  no  question  about  me  ! "  continued  Ddmi- 
ane,  with  the  gravity  that  he  had  imported  from  the 
villa  Redine ;  "  my  ideas  have  not  changed,  it  is  yours 
that  have  done  so." 

So  rigorous  a  procedure  was  well  calculated  to 
disconcert  IMene,  so  she  made  a  desperate  plunge 
which  brought  her  suddenly  face  to  face  with  a  great 
question. 

"  Well,  yes  ! "  said  she  betraying  herself  without 
knowing  it,  "people  sometimes  have  ideas  that  are  — 
stupid !  They  perceive  it,  and  then  they  do  all  they  can 
to  get  them  out  of  their  heads,  and " 

"And  they  succeed?"  asked  Demiane  approaching 
her. 

A  sudden  interest  had  taken  possession  of  him  at  the 
thought  that  this  poor  child  might  have  conceived  the 
heroic  idea  of  struggling  against  the  love  with  which 
he  had  inspired  her.  And  here  it  was  that  little  H£lene 
underwent  a  cruel  combat !  To  lie  seemed  odious  to 
her,  and,  moreover,  impossible ;  to  tell  the  truth  was 
less  odious,  but  equally  impracticable ;  she  tried  twice 
to  pronounce  a  yes  which  strangled  her,  and  to  stop  a 


588  MARK  OF. 

no  that  was  stifling  her ;  at  length  she  found  without 
knowing  it,  a  middle  term. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  boldly,  while  all  her  sweet  and 
charming  person,  her  changing  blushes,  and  her  eyes, 
which  were  asking  pardon  for  the  author  of  this  false- 
hood, said  no  much  louder. 

"Ah!"  said  Demiane  who  was  strangely  moved, 
"  you  are  brave,  Helene." 

"  Oh !  no  ! "  she  replied,  hastily  turning  away. 

He  remained  silent  for  a  moment ;  she  was  brave  in 
all  ways,  since  she  used  so  much  courage  in  defending 
herself.  Poor  little  one !  He  ought  to  have  thought 
about  it !  Of  course  it  would  be  so  !  How  could  she 
resist  Demiane's  daily  presence,  Dcniiane  who  led  away 
princesses.  At  the  memory  of  how  he  was  treated  by 
his  pretended  conquest,  he  could  not  help  having  a 
neart-ache. 

44  That  is  the  way  I  ought  to  be  loved !  "  said  he  to 
himself.  "What  a  misfortune  that  all  the  devotion 
should  be  here,  and  all  the  rest  down  there  !  " 

"  Helene,"  continued  he  after  an  instant,  "  you  are  a 
good  creature  ;  I  have  a  great  deal  of  friendship  for  you. 
I  did  not  know  you.  Now  I  shall  be  more  just  to  you." 

She  replied  a  "  thank  you  "  that  was  very  feeble  and 
very  sweet. 

"  You  are  right,"  Demiane  went  on,  carried  away  by 
his  generosity ;  "  you  are  perfectly  right  to  wish  to  play 
alone ;  you  must  make  yourself  a  name.  You  must 
give  a  concert  when  you  return  to  Moscow,  and  I  will 
play  for  you  as  you  have  played  for  me." 

With  the  usual  greatness  of  his  nature,  he  held  out 


MARK  OF.  389 

his  hand  to  Hdlfine.  He  did  not  know  exactly  what 
he  expected,  but  he  would  not  have  been  surprised  to 
have  seen  it  bathed  with  tears  of  gratitude.  What  was 
his  astonishment  to  feel  it  very  strongly  shaken  by  lit- 
tle Helene,  who  gave  him  a  very  hearty  grasp,  while 
saying  to  him  in  a  very  joyful  tone : 

"Thank  you,  De'miane,  De'miane!"  and  shaking 
hands  in  the  English  fashion  ! 

Nothing  but  De'miane !  He  was  so  stunned  by  it 
that  he  took  his  violin  and  practised  scales  for  at  least 
an  hour  before  he  could  recover  his  spirits. 


390  MARK  OF. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

ANDRE     ASKS     FOR     HELP. 


De*miane  :  —  *  am  not  writing  to 
to  your  brother  ;  for,  in  your  answer,  you  for- 
got one  thing:  which  was  to  send  me  your  future 
address.  Victor  is  a  practical  man,  fortunately.  Do 
me  the  pleasure  of  telling  me  how  I  could  have  con- 
tinued the  correspondence,  if  he  had  not  had  the  bright 
idea  of  writing  to  me  a  second  time,  as  soon  as  you 
reached  Piatigorsk! 

"  But  above  everything,  permit  me  to  congratulate 
you  on  the  wonderful  chance  which  has  led  you  into 
those  fortunate  regions,  at  the  feet  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful mountains  in  the  world,  and  at  the  feet  of  the  most 
beautiful  Princess  in  the  universe  — 

"There,  calm  yourself!  I  will  not  say  anything 
more  about  it.  You  have  with  regard  to  that  great  and 
good  lady,  once  before  desired  to  eat  me  up  :  the  lesson 
will  be  profitable  to  me.  Let  us  talk  rather  of  myself. 
Myself,  which  is  an  inexhaustible  and  charming  theme. 

"  Imagine,  my  friend  Victor,  —  it  is  Victor  alone 
whom  I  am  addressing  —  imagine,  that  my  situation 
has  not  changed  an  iota  since  my  last  letter.  Behold 
me,  turned  forever  into  a  china  dog,  for  there  is  no 
reason  for  hoping  this  will  end,  on  the  contrary! 
Mademoiselle  Mouza,  the  muse,  gives  proof  of  a  firm- 
ness of  character  that  is  truly  admirable.  Her  absolute 


MARKOF.  391 

muteness  ends  by  inspiring  me  with  respect  and  I  shall 
never  have  the  courage  to  be  the  first  to  break  so 
worthy  a  silence.  Savages  are  decidedly  very  superior 
to  us  civilized  people,  who  think  ourselves  great  philoso 
phers  because  we  say  over  every  day  from  morning 
until  night  a  long  rosary  of  sentences  that  are  as  empty 
as  glass  beads.  But,  O !  Victor,  what  a  service  you 
have  rendered  me  !  Without  you,  I  should  have  died 
of  an  internal  hemorrhage  of  words  — 

"  During  the  last  two  weeks,  I  have  had  time  to  go 
over  my  domain.  How  vast  it  is  !  I  wore  myself  out 
trying  to  do  so  on  foot.  And  how  beautiful  it  is  too  ! 
I  love  it  as  though  I  had  passed  a  long  previous  life 
upon  it.  My  modest  house  is  large  enough  for  me  to 
oe  able  to  shelter  you  all  in  it,  including  the  ladies  who 
accompany  you  and  who,  perhaps,  will  do  me  the  great 
honor  of  coming  here  with  you.  It  is  built  of  red 
brick  ;  the  white  plaster  covering  which  formerly  spoiled 
it,  has  fallen  off  in  places,  and  that  which  remains  on  it 
has  taken  the  most  superb  grey  tints.  In  all  the  rooms 
of  the  first  story  the  beaten  earthen  flooring  is  as  hard 
as  stone,  and  Mouza  spreads  hay  over  it  every  morning, 
that  is  to  say  bunches  of  the  aromatic  herbs  of  the 
steppe,  whose  delicious  odor  sometimes  intoxicates  me. 
Behind  the  house  is  a  garden  full  of  cherry  trees  where 
the  nightingales  sing ;  all  around  there  is  a  curtain  of 
trees,  which  is  a  precious  luxury  in  this  country,  and 
around  these  trees  the  steppe,  the  great  steppe,  which 
extends  on  all  sides  as  far  as  the  horizon,  like  a  round 
table  which  has  not  yet  been  laid,  this,  in  three  words, 
is  the  new  universe  where  I  am  living  happily,  where  I 


392  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

shall  die  perhaps,  if  Mouza  does  not  drive  me  away 
from  it  by  her  stillness. 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  in  a  nook,  three  or  four 
verstes  from  my  domain,  a  little  village  of  small  white 
houses  is  hidden.  This  village  has  inhabitants ;  these 
inhabitants  have  children,  and  very  surly  dogs.  War 
is  a  phenomenon  that  is  as  natural  as  the  rain ;  it  arises 
from  small  things,  it  would  arise  from  nothing  at  all, 
rather  than  not  be.  The  only  way  to  destroy  it  would 
be  not  to  have  any  neighbors.  Greece  went  to  war 
against  the  Trojans  about  a  woman  ;  and  I  have  had  a 
quarrel  to  settle  with  the  village  children  about  a  toad. 
This  is  how  it  was : 

"The  other  day,  or  rather  the  other  evening,  to 
speak  more  properly,  for  the  sun  had  just  set,  I  had 
gone  to  take  my  siesta  in  the  open  air,  far  from  the 
house,  in  order  to  rest  my  ears  from  little  Mouza's  piti- 
less silence.  You  could  not  imagine  unless  you  had  heard 
it,  what  a  noise  the  insects  of  the  steppe  make,  when 
the  sun  is  setting,  and  when  one  is  stretched  out  on  the 
grass.  It  is  a  deafening  uproar.  You  would  say  that 
the  trumpets  of  Jericho  had  all  begun  to  sound  at  once. 
Ah!  our  Gogol  is  a  great  poet;  he  has  heard  and 
understood  the  music  of  the  steppe!  His  Tarass 
Boulba  could  only  be  the  work  of  a  Little-Russian. 

"  But  he  does  not  love  toads  enough.  Do  you  know, 
my  friends,  a  more  melodious  song  than  the  toad's 
song?  It  has  only  one  note,  but  an  exquisite  note, 
that  I  was  incapable  of  appreciating  during  my  law 
studies,  and  which  the  art  of  musical-instrument  mak- 
ing has  alone  rendered  me  worthy  of  understanding. 
This  melancholy  note  produces  the  effect  upon  me  of 


MARKOF.  393 

belonging  to  a  minor  scale ;  why  ?  I  do  not  know  at  all. 
Demiane  can  explain  it  to  me,  perhaps.  It  has  a  pure 
tone,  not  silvery,  but  crystalline,  like  the  sound  of  a 
pick-axe  on  a  block  of  granite  when  they  are  cutting  it, 
or  like  certain  light,  harmonious  notes  drawn  from  the 
large  string  of  a  violin.  When  the  voice  of  the  toad 
arises  in  the  calm  evening  air,  I  have  only  to  close  my 
eyes  to  feel  myself  transported  into  the  kingdom  of 
Queen  Mab,  where  one  does  not  find  surly  dogs,  nor 
boisterous  children,  nor  little  dumb  girls. 

"  Well,  then,  the  other  evening,  I  had  finished  my 
siesta  and  was  rubbing  my  eyes,  when  I  heard,  not  far 
from  me,  something  like  the  clucking  of  a  flock  of  little 
turkeys.  The  barking  of  a  large  dog  made  the  bass  in 
this  harmonious  concert.  I  turned  my  head  and  I  saw 
Mouza  standing  out  in  a  grey  outline  against  the  bright 
sky,  with  her  arm  raised,  and  threatening  with  a  stick 
three  or  four  ragged  urchins  and  a  monstrous  dog. 

"  I  ran  in  great  haste  to  know  what  it  was  all  about, 
and  I  heard  the  following  dialogue : 

" '  You  shall  not  touch  it,  do  you  hear ! ' 

" 4  Ah  !  are  you  mad  ? '  replied  the  largest  boy. 

" 4  Mad  or  not,  I  tell  you  that  you  shall  not  touch  it.' 

"4We  will  touch  it!' 

"'Try  and  see  whether  you  can!'  cried  the  little 
amazon. 

"  She  was  as  pretty  as  a  pink,  with  her  frowning 
brows  and  her  tumbled  hair. 

"'But  toads  belong  to  everybody,  the  good  Lord 
made  them  for  that.' 

" 4  The  good  Lord  made  them  for  you  to  leave  alone  t 


394  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

I  do  not  want  you  to  hurt  them !  And  besides,  that 
one  is  on  my  property.' 

"  She  said  '  my  property '  with  an  accent  of  conviction 
that  made  me  tremble.  At  that  moment  I  reached  the 
scene  of  warfare,  and  I  perceived  behind  this  odd  girl's 
heels,  a  toad  of  quite  fine  appearance,  who  must  already 
have  received  some  blow,  for  it  was  lying  there  motion- 
less and  stunned.  Without  waiting  for  any  further 
explanation,  I  picked  up  a  great  clod  of  earth  and 
threw  it  at  the  dog,  who  was  barking  decidedly  too  near. 
He  received  it  in  his  muzzle  and  withdrew,  howling. 
To  finish  my  work,  I  seized  Mouza's  stick ;  seeing  which, 
the  boys  fled,  not  without  throwing  me  some  Cossack 
oaths :  a  kind  of  oath  that  is  not  made  of  rose-water,  I 
can  assure  you. 

"  Mouza  looked  at  me  fixedly,  with  a  half-pleased, 
half-vexed  air.  She  would,  perhaps,  have  preferred  to 
have  come  out  of  the  scrape  all  alone.  Without  saying 
a  word,  she  reached  out  her  hand,  looking  at  the  stick 
in  a  way  which  seemed  to  say ;  4  Give  it  back  to  me, 
immediately.'  I  returned  it  to  her  mechanically. 
Meanwhile  the  toad  had  recovered  its  consciousness,  and 
was  disappearing  in  unsteady  bounds.  She  made  s  ire 
that  it  had  no  more  need  of  help,  and  set  off  quickly 
towards  the  house. 

"You  imagine  perhaps,  that  after  such  an  epopee 
peace  must  have  been  signed  between  us.  Not  the 
least  in  the  world.  Our  breakfasts  and  our  dinners  are 
always  just  as  silent  as  before.  She  has  allowed  me 
two  or  three  times  to  pour  her  out  something  to  drink; 
that  is  all.  What  a  pity  that  this  droll  little  girl  should 
have  taken  in  ill-part  my  arrival  on  'her  property?' 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  395 

You  know,  my  friends,  that  I  have  the  bump  of  profes- 
sorship: I  taught  Ddmiane  philosophy,  the  art  of  making 
musical  instruments  to  Victor;  I  would  have  taught 
Mouza  all  that  an  intelligent  woman  ought  to  know, 
beginning  with  what  the  school-master  teaches  little 
girls  —  But  what  would  you  have  me  do?  She  is  too 
large  !  She  looks  like  a  little  woman,  and  at  times,  a 
little  Empress !  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  I  feel 
like  a  small  boy  beside  her ! 

"  All  this  must  end  however.  This  situation  cannot 
last  forever.  I  have  now  reached  the  age  when  people 
marry ;  and  how  could  I  bring  my  wife  into  a  house 
haunted  by  this  odd  imp?  It  is  enough  to  make  one 
break  one's  head  against  the  wall ! 

"  Here  is  enough  for  to-day.  If  my  letter  seems  long 
to  you,  remember  that  I  have  no  one  to  speak  to,  and 
write  to  me  very  soon. 

"  Your  friend, 

ANDRE  LADOF. 

"P.  S. —  She  has  spoken  to  me!  I  had  just  cleaned 
my  gun  and  was  going  out,  when  she  stopped  me  on 
the  threshold  :  — 4  Where  are  you  going  ? '  — 'I  am 
going  shooting.' — '  To  shoot  what  ? ' — '  Birds,  parlleu  ! ' 
— 4 1  do  not  wish  the  little  birds  to  be  killed/ — 4  Ah  ! 
par  exemple !  that  is  a  little  too  much ! '  cried  I. — 
'Then,'  this  astonishing  girl  answered  me,  'why  did 
you  prevent  the  children  from  killing  the  toad?' 

"Finding  nothing  for  an  answer,  I  re-entered  the 
house.  I  discharged  my  gun,  and  put  it  in  a  corner. 
I  would  like  to  know  what  she  will  forbid  me  next 
time  ?  Hasten  to  my  help  with  your  ladies :  perhaps 
they  will  succeed  in  taking  her  away." 


396  MARK  OF. 

\ 

CHAPTER    XLVI. 

THE    ROLES    ARE    CHANGED. 

HELENE  and  D^miane  were  rehearsing  a  concerto 
in  the  large  hall  of  the  Bathing  Establishment ; 
they  were  alone,  with  all  the  doors  closed,  for  fear  of 
draughts,  which  twice  already  had  torn  the  sheets  of 
music  from  their  desks  and  made  them  execute  a  fan- 
tastic race  under  the  chairs.  Hel£ne  laughed  over  it, 
but  De'miane  did  not  much  like  to  run  about  on  his 
hands  and  knees.  After  all,  he  was  right :  a  man  who 
passes  his  time  before  Princesses'  knees,  may  readily 
not  wish  to  go  down  on  his  own  before  the  empty 
chairs  which  were  occupied  yesterday,  which  will  be 
occupied  to-morrow  again,  by  Madame  la  Capitaine 
or  Madame  la  Lieutenante,  in  other  words,  by  nothing 
at  all ! 

The  waiters,  after  having  finished  sweeping  the  upper 
gallery,  pouring  the  while  on  the  artists,  floods  of  Cau- 
casian dust,  which  is  not  cleaner  than  any  other,  had 
retired,  knocking  against  the  glass  doors,  with  the  usual 
carelessness  of  people  who  do  not  pay  for  the  broken 
glass,  and  our  friends  were  alone,  all  alone.  Absorbed 
in  their  study,  neither  one  nor  the  other  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  it,  nor  did  they  bestow  a  thought  on  the  garden 
which  stretched  before  the  front  doors,  with  its  rich 
clothing  of  August  flowers,  dahlias  and  chrysanthe- 
mums, the  precursors  of  the  autumnal  days  which 


MARKOF.  397 

[would  not  now  be  long  in  coming.  Pages  of  music 
succeeded  pages,  and  the  two  artists  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  that  they  were  not  made  of  steel,  and  that 
fatigue  is  an  existing  and  real  state.  At  length,  they 
reached  the  final  chords,  and  Ddmiane,  putting  down 
his  violin  on  the  piano,  wiped  his  brow,  saying :  "  Ugh ! " 

Little  Helene  looked  at  him  sideways,  mockingly, 
then  turned  over  her  music-book  and  his  own,  and 
opened  them  at  the  first  page  to  begin  again  ;  this  duty 
accomplished,  she  allowed  herself  the  relaxation  of 
cracking  the  little  benumbed  joints  of  her  red  and 
slender  hands. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  very  warm  ?  "  said  Demiane, 
yawning  with  a  sigh. 

Helene  went  to  one  of  the  doors  and  fastened  it  —  so 
that  it  should  not  be  tempted  to  shut  —  to  a  hook  that 
was  made  for  this  purpose,  and  returned  and  sat  on  the 
piano-stool. 

"  Oh !  pardon  me,"  said  the  young  man,  who  had 
jbecome  very  polite  from  frequenting  such  distinguished 
society,  "  it  is  I  who  ought  to  have  done  — " 

"  And  it  was  I  who  did  it,"  Helene  calmly  replied ; 
"  oh !  it  makes  no  difference,  I  am  used  to  it." 

He  looked  at  her  a  little  surprised:  she  had  not 
Jaccustomed  him  to  remarks  of  that  kind :  he  thought 
Ishe  was  in  a  bad  humor ;  but  she  was  not.  She  smiled 
calmly  at  the  garden,  which  she  saw  through  the 
'opened  door,  and  executed  some  very  delicate  little 
prills  with  her  right  hand  high  up  on  the  piano  keys. 

She  had  become  remarkably  pretty.  Was  it  the 
3  Caucasian  table  land  that  suited  her  temperament,  or 


398  MARKOF. 

the  pure  air  of  the  mountains  which  had  given  her  that 
slight  embonpoint?  She  was  whiter  and  rosier,  in  spite 
of  the  olive  tint  of  her  complexion,  and  she  seemed 
calm  and  happy  as  she  had  n-ever  been  before.  D^mi- 
ane  could  not  know  that  the  evening  before,  little 
Helene  and  Madame  Moutine  had  walked  together  for 
two  hours  under  the  great  trees  on  the  Boulevard,  and 
that  the  young  woman  had  taught  the  young  girl  a  few 
of  the  secrets  of  life. 

"After  having  tried  strong  pepper,"  she  said,  "he 
will  return  to  cream,  because  it  is  cream  that  nourishes 
one,  and  that  man  cannot  always  live  on  excitement." 

Besides,  if  he  had  heard  this  unusual  kind  of  conver- 
sation, he  would  not  have  understood  much  of  it,  and 
would  have  thought  it  had  reference  to  household 
recipes  for  making  little  cakes,  and  that  probably 
Valerien  had  latterly  shown  a  decided  taste  for  spices. 

Since  this  conversation,  Helene  felt  that  a  sun  was 
going  to  rise  in  her  life  ;  she  had  passed  the  night  with- 
out sleeping,  and  yet  she  had  dressed  herself  at  dawn 
with  a  cheerfulness  that  was  not  usual  to  her ;  she  had 
looked  at  her  mother  sleeping  with  a  tender  pity,  but 
had  said  however,  to  herself,  that  her  mother  was  very 
good  and  very  indulgent,  then  she  set  herself  to  work 
as  she  generally  did,  mending  her  clothes,  refreshing  by 
a  few  new  ruches  some  almost  worn  out  dresses,  and 
giving  to  all  that  her  fingers  touched  that  serious  and 
modest  look  which  belonged  to  Helene. 

As  she  went  over  her  needlework,  she  had  found  in 
her  basket  a  torn  handkerchief,  which  had  great  need 
of  a  darn,  and  a  pair  of  much  damaged  socks.  As  she 


3VIAKKOF.  399 

was  about  to  begin  mending  them,  she  stopped,  then 
with  a  queer  smile,  she  carefully  folded  up  the  hand- 
kerchief, with  the  tear  inside,  and  prepared  the  socks 
ready  to  be  put  on,  and  as  ten  o'clock  struck  she  had 
carried  these  things  into  Ddmiarie's  room,  which  Victor 
was  arranging,  as  he  always  did. 

"  Still  some  more  of  your  work  ?  "  the  good  fellow 
said,  with  a  reproachful  look. 

With  the  same  smile,  and  a  finger  held  to  her  lips, 
she  opened  the  bureau,  and  placed  the  two  things  which 
she  had  brought  on  the  top,  so  that  they  should  be  the 
first  ones  taken,  then  shutting  the  drawer  and  leaning 
her  elbows  on  the  bureau,  she  laughed  heartily,  and 
her  laugh  was  musical  and  frank. 

"  What  is  it  ?  a  surprise  ?  "  said  Victor. 

"  Yes,  a  surprise,"  PIclene  replied,  as  she  went  away 
to  laugh  by  herself. 

But  Victor  was  as  curious  as  a  cat :  he  had  searched 
in  the  drawer,  and  an  instant  after  he  had  joined  the 
young  girl. 

"  I  do  not  understand  — "  said  he. 

"  He  will  be  furious,  will  he  not?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  so." 

"And  I,  hope  "so." 

He  looked  at  her  more  bewildered  than  ever. 

"  You  have  spoiled  him,  Helene,  he  will  be  furious.'* 

"Well,  we  will  amuse  ourselves  a  little." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  tease  him  ?  " 

"  I  wish  for  him  to  consider  me  somebody.  And  you 
see,  my  good  friend,  if  you  do  not  make  your  services 
appreciated,  no  one  is  grateful  to  you  for  them." 


400  MARKOF. 

"Oh!  Hdlene,  I— " 

"  And,"  said  she  delicately  laying  her  hand  on  Vic- 
tor's arm,  "  I  do  not  bring  back  torn  pocket  handker- 
chiefs to  you." 

He  remained  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

"Suppose  we  form  a  plot  ?  "  said  he  at  length. 

"  Certainly  !  it  is  agreed." 

Their  two  heads  approached  each  other  and  the  result 
of  the  council  was,  that  they  were  both  merry  for  the 
rest  of  the  day.  It  was  this  calm  merriment  that 
animated  Helene's  face  when  Ddmiane  took  it  into  his 
head  to  look  at  her,  in  the  large  hall  of  the  Bathing 
Establishment. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  said  he  to  her  with 
unusual  kindness. 

"  I  am  waiting  till  we  begin  again,"  she  replied  turn- 
ing towards  him  her  innocent,  calm  look. 

With  a  motion  of  impatience,  he  took  his  violin  and 
tuned  it.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  seize  the  bow,  he 
stopped  and  asked  his  accompaniste : 

"Do  you  think  the  concerto  does  not  go  well 
enough  ?  " 

"I  think  it  does  not  go  at  all,"  replied  the  young 
girl  as  she  turned  up  the  corners  of  her  pages ;  "  you 
do  not  come  in  in  time,  at  the  second  repetition  of  the 
staccato" 

Really !  De*miane  laid  down  his  violin.  He  did  not 
come  in  in  time  !  H£Lene  was  criticising  his  playing ! 
At  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  he  knew  very  well  he  was 
not  in  time,  and  that  was  just  what  annoyed  him.  A 
similar  circumstance  had  occurred  more  than  once,  and 
far  from  making  any  remarks  to  him  about  it,  his  faith- 


MARK  OF.  401 

ful  accompaniste  had  hidden  these  slight  defects ;  and 
thanks  to  her  foresight  he  had  even  been  able  to  rest 
himself  a  little,  and  to  watch  less  closely  over  the 
execution  of  certain  passages  —  Was  she  going  to  begin 
to  tutor  him  now  ?  He  would  like  to  see  her  ! 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  open  his  mouth,  he  closed 
it  and  took  up  his  violin  haughtity. 

They  began,  and  during  three  pages,  everything  went 
on  perfectly ;  the  most  dangerous  passage  was  executed 
by  De*miane  with  rare  perfection,  and  Helene  approved 
it  with  a  motion  of  her  head,  with  which,  in  spite  of 
himself  the  young  man  was  very  much  pleased,  so 
pleased  in  fact,  that  he  took  advantage  of  his  triumph 
to  play  a  doubtful  note  an  instant  after. 

'4  Aie  !  "  said  Helene  stopping. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  Demiane  muttered. 

"  Higher  up,  your  Za." 

Beyond  question  the  la  ought  to  have  been  higher ; 
but  what  difference  could  that  make  to  Helene  ?  Would 
not  Ddmiane  on  the  day  of  the  concert  know  how  to 
play  without  making  mistakes?  He  said  this  to  her 
with  but  little  ceremony,  and  only  obtained  this  in 
reply  : 

"  When  people  allow  themselves  some  carelessness  in 
their  practising,  they  are  never  sure  of  making  it  up 
before  the  public.  If  I  practised  like  that,  I  would 
not  do  you  much  honor." 

"I  believe  it!"  said  Demiane  nobly;  "but  that  is 
not  the  same  thing." 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Helene,  beginning  to  play 
again. 

25 


402  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

He  had  only  just  time  to  shoulder  his  instrument  and 
to  seize  the  melody  in  its  flight. 

He  kept  himself  on  his  guard,  caring  little  to  catch 
again  some  other  remark  of  the  same  kind,  when  a  solo 
for  the  piano  was  reached  which  was  full  of  expression, 
and  which  Hele"ne  played  admirably,  so  well  indeed 
that  our  artist  was  charmed. 

"  How  much  progress  you  have  made,  little  Helene !  " 
said  he :  "  between  your  way  of  playing  three  months 
ago  and  that  of  to-day,  there  is  a  world  of  difference  ! " 

She  smiled  with  that  enigmatical  smile  which  made 
her  so  attractive,  and  he  remained  preoccupied  while 
she  tinished  her  solo. 

"  It  is  your  turn  now,"  said  she,  when  the  time  came. 

The  artist  took  up  his  part;  but  H61ene  played  her 
own  too  perfectly,  so  much  so  that  De'miane,  who  was 
disconcerted,  felt  he  was  losing  ground. 

"  You  play  too  loud,"  said  he,  "  you  overpower  my 
part  with  your  piano." 

"  It  is  written  fortissimo"  replied  she,  pointing  out 
the  exact  place  with  the  end  of  her  slender  forefinger. 

He  took  up  his  bow  with  an  angry  look,  and  played 
with  the  worst  grace  possible.  Decidedly  Helene  was 
becoming  tiresome  to  pay  such  attention  to  the  least 
trifles.  When  they  had  finished,  he  carefully  arranged 
his  music  and  his  violin  while  she  was  doing  the  same ; 
and  after  having  accomplished  this  duty,  he  turned 
towards  her  with  a  brow  like  Jupiter's  when  a  little 
remaining  clemency  restrains  him  from  hurling  forth 
his  thunder. 

"Can  you  by  any  chance,  Mademoiselle  Hel&ie," 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  403 

said  he  in  his  most  stately  tone,   "  do  you  pretend  to 
give  me  a  lesson  ?  " 

"  I?"  she  replied,  with  a  slight  start.  "  Ah  !  Heaven 
is  my  witness,  that  I  do  not  wish  to  give  lessons  to  any 
one  !  But,  my  dear  Ddmiane,  is  it  giving  you  a  lesson 


404  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

She  stopped  speaking,  rolled  up  her  music  and  shut 
the  piano. 

"  But  what  ?  "  said  Demiane,  retaining  her  by  holding 
her  arm. 

He  was  at  once  curious  and  irritated ;  he  cared  but 
little,  in  truth,  what  this  young  girl  without  fortune  or 
position  thought  of  him.  However,  it  cost  him  some- 
thing to  feel  a  reserve  in  the  opinion  she  might  have 
about  him. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  know  ? "  said  the  little  pianist, 
suddenly  turning  towards  him  and  looking  him  full  in 
the  face,  in  spite  of  the  honest  blush  that  covered  her 
own.  "  Well,  I  think  that  you  are  not  careful  enough 
of  your  dignity ;  that  at  the  villa  Re'dine  they  treat  you 
in  the  evening  like  a  paid  violinist,  who  is  asked  there 
to  amuse  the  society ;  and  that  while  you  believe  your- 
self a  guest,  like  the  others,  you  are  only  the  musician ! 
And  that  is  not  worthy  of  you,  Demiane,  and  I  tell 
you  so." 

The  artist  would  have  liked  to  have  informed  this 
little  insolent  girl  what  price  the  Princess  paid  in  the 
morning  for  the  evening's  music,  but  he  did  not  dare  to 
do  so ;  however,  something  in  his  look  spoke  for  him. 

"Yes,  yes,"  continued  Helene,  "the  —  the  friendship 
of  this  noble  lady  makes  you  blind  with  regard  to  the 
part  that  you  play  at  her  house  !  Has  all  her  friendship 
for  you  ever  made  her  take  your  arm  to  cross  the  Bath- 
ing Establishment  garden  or  to  enter  the  Concert  Hall? 
The  friendship  which  she  has  for  you  is  a  secret  friend- 
ship—  that  she  would  blush  to  confess  publicly  —  that 
she  would  deny  to  the  death  if  any  one  spoke  to  her 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  405 

about  it,  —  and  that  kind  of  friendship,  Demiane,  adds 
nothing  to  the  dignity  of  a  man,  on  the  contrary ! " 

She  ended  with  a  sort  of  stifled  sigh,  casting  her 
saddened  eyes  down  to  the  ground. 

The  young  man,  who  had  nearly  burst  forth  with 
an  angry  expression  ten  times  during  this  little  speech, 
had  no  reply  ready  when  she  had  finished.  He  recog- 
nized a  bitter  truth  in  these  cruel  words,  whose  sting 
he  had  felt  many  a  time  before.  Utterly  at  a  loss 
what  to  say,  he  suddenly  had  an  inspiration  from  on 
high. 

"  You  are  jealous,  Hel£ne,"  he  exclaimed,  with  the 
simplicity  of  a  man  who  knows  himself  irresistible. 

"  Jealous  ?  of  the  Princess  Redine  ? "  said  Hclene, 
proudly  raising  her  small  head,  that  was  like  that  of  a 
Greek  statue,  and  looking  her  friend-enemy  in  the 
eyes.  "  I  do  not  do  her  that  honor,"  she  added,  with 
an  accent  of  incomparable  disdain. 

"  Helene,  you  are  forgetting  yourself! "  replied  Ddmi- 
ane,  who  received  the  affront  to  the  Princess  as  though 
addressed  to  himself. 

"  I  think  it  is  you  who  forget  yourself,  Ddmiane," 
returned  the  young  girl,  in  a  calm  tone,  and  without 
lowering  her  eyes.  "  What  reason  could  Mademoiselle 
Mianof  have  for  being  jealous  of  the  Princess  Redine  ? 
Between  that  lady  and  myself  there  is  a  gulf,  a  gulf 
which  nothing  can  fill,"  she  continued  with  sovereign 
contempt  —  "and  across  which  no  bridge  can  be  thrown ! 
But  you,  Monsieur  Markof,  if  you  are  anxious  about 
your  honor,  look  to  what  they  do  to  you." 

"  My  honor !     There  is,  thank  God !  nothing  to  do 


406  MAKKOF. 

with  that  in  all  this  !  "  said  the  young  man,  with  con« 
centrated  wrath. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Well  then,  Monsieur  Markof,  if 
you  think  so,  continue  to  live  as  you  are  doing ;  if  you 
do  not  see  that  they  treat  you  at  the  villa  like  a  trained 
dog "  —  she  continued,  paying  no  attention  to  Demi- 
ane's  irritated  gesture  —  "  it  is  your  own  affair ;  but  for 
our  part,  we,  who  have  a  share  in  your  dignity,  will 
keep  ourselves  at  a  distance  from  your  glory,  we  will 
try  to  live  so  far  apart  from  it,  that  they  cannot  mix 
up  our  lives  with  yours,  until  the  day,  when  weary  of 
it,  you  will  return  to  us,  who  are  your  true  friends, 
and  whom  you  now  do  not  recognize  as  such." 

"  I  think,  Helene,  you  have  lost  your  mind  ! "  said 
Demiane,  who  was  exasperated. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  be  sure  of  what  I  say  to  you  ?  On 
the  evening  of  the  next  concert,  you  will  be  in  all  your 
glory,  will  you  not.  Their  Highnesses  will  have  con- 
gratulated and  complimented  you.  Try  and  say  to  the 
Princess  that  you  are  tired,  and  that  you  do  not  wish  to 
play  in  her  drawing-room,  and  you  will  see  how  she  will 
treat  you.  Offer  her  your  arm  to  return  to  her  home, 
and  yqu  will  see  again.  Be  free,  and  talk  to  her  as  the 
other  young  men  do,  and  you  will  see  whether  she  does 
not  put  you  in  your  place  ?  " 

"  My  place  !  " 

"  The  one  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  to  which  she 
belongs,  you  should  occupy  towards  her.  She  does  not 
Love  you,  Ddmiane,  she  pretends  to  love  you !  " 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  "  muttered  the  latter, 
who  was  irritated  to  torture  by  that  voice  which  ex- 


MARK  OF.  407 

plained  so  clearly  to  him  the  cause  of  his  dumb  anger 
and  secret  rage. 

"  Because  that  is  not  the  way  that  people  love.  No 
elevated  feeling,  no  matter  by  what  name  it  is  desig- 
nated, takes  pleasure  in  leaving  in  an  humiliating  ob- 
scurity the  friend  that  it  has  voluntarily  chosen  for 
itself." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  bad  hidden  thought. 

"  You  talk  knowingly  about  these  things,"  said  he, 
"  who  has  taught  you  your  knowledge  ?  " 

"Grief!"  replied  Hdlene,  passing  proudly  in  front 
of  him,  "  the  grief  of  undeserved  offenses,  —  and  the 
sweetness  of  pardon,"  she  added  in  a  lower  tone  as  she 
went  out  of  the  door  into  the  garden. 

He  wanted  to  run  after  her,  to  have  a  quarrel  with 
her,  to  call  her  names,  and  perhaps  to  shake  her  a  little 
by  the  arm,  without  looking  too  much  as  though  he 
were  beating  her ;  he  wanted  also  to  make  her  explain 
herself ;  he  would  have  given  a  great  many  things  and 
a  great  deal  of  money  to  have  made  her  confess  that 
she  loved  him;  but  he  agreed  with  himself  that  the 
above-mentioned  means  were  not  the  kind  that  are 
commonly  employed  to  obtain  an  avowal  of  that  sort, 
and,  vexed  and  furious,  he  returned  to  his  home. 

The  first  pocket-handkerchief  that  fell  under  his 
hands  was  the  one  which  Helene  had  carried  back  to 
him  that  same  morning.  He  took  advantage  of  this 
happy  circumstance  to  quarrel  frightfully  with  Victor, 
who  listened  to  him  with  a  placid  air  while  stuifing 
Turkish  tobacco  into  cigarette  moulds,  and  who  an- 
Bwered  not  a  word. 


408  MARKOF. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 
HELENE'S    BOUQUET. 

DURING  the  following  two  weeks,  Demiane  nursed 
his  anger  in  every  way.  Twice  the  Princess  had 
sent  him  word  not  to  go  to  her  in  the  morning  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  the  third  time  it  was  he  who  gave  himself 
the  royal  pleasure  of  informing  her  that  he  should  not 
go.  This  last  trait  of  character  seemed  to  him  worthy 
of  Plutarch,  and  to  put  a  little  balm  on  his  aching  pride, 
he  sat  down  in  a  corner  and  gloriously  wove  for  him- 
self a  small  crown  of  laurel.  Myrtles  did  not  seem  to 
him  to  be  in  season,  —  and  for  roses,  he  began  to  feel 
but  a  moderate  esteem  since  he  had  seen  that  the 
Princess  wore  or  did  not  wear  them,  according  to  her 
caprice  —  whether  they  had  seen  each  other  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  or  not.  Once  he  begged  her  to 
wear  one  of  these  flowers  in  her  dress  in  the  evening  in 
memory  of  their  interviews,  and  Cleopatre  had  laughed 
a  great  deal  at  this  sentimental  extravagance. 

"  Ah !  mon  cher"  this  truly  superior  woman  said, 
"  do  not  be  sentimental,  I  beg  of  you ;  nothing  is  more 
ridiculous,  nor  better  calculated  to  displease  me  ! " 

"You  always  talk  about  displeasing  you,"  replied 
Demiane,  "  and  you  never  dream  of  asking  yourself  if 
something  may  not  displease  me  ! " 

"You?"  said  the  Princess,  haughtily;  "have  you  a 
right  tc  find  anything  displeasing  in  me  ?  " 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  409 

"In  what  way,  Princess?"  the  sullen  young  man 
said. 

Instead  of  replying,  Cldopatre  had  passed  her  delicate 
and  soft  hand  over  his  eyes,  and  the  quarrel  was  at 
once  ended.  But  the  Princess  was  very  much  annoyed 
with  this  private  warfare.  "  Those  plebeians  have  no 
knowledge  of  life,"  she  said  to  herself;  "they  are  ter- 
ribly ill-bred,  and  no  one  will  catch  me  with  them 
again." 

This  was  why  she  had  made  the  interval  between 
the  interviews  in  the  boudoir  longer  and  longer.  But 
if  Demiane  were  to  dare  to  cease  to  come  to  her  she 
would  have  to  regain  her  empire  over  him,  even  were 
the  power  thus  regained  by  bravado  to  last  but  one  day. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  'fixed  for  the  "  musical 
solemnity  for  the  benefit  of  the  Caucasian  wounded," 
Cleopatre  on  waking,  said  to  herself  that  the  occasion 
would  be  a  favorable  one  for  recalling  this  young 
Ma-rkof —  who  was  decidedly  too  independent  —  to  the 
true  principles  of  good  breeding,  and  she  begged  him 
to  go  to  her. 

When  he  received  this  communication,  Dcmiane  was 
busy  about  his  afternoon's  toilette  —  the  Concert  was 
to  take  place  at  two  o'clock  —  and  he  was  selecting, 
not  without  some  trouble,  a  cravat  from  among  quite  a 
fine  collection  of  little  pieces  of  tumbled  cambric. 
Helene,  who  was  in  the  next  room  ironing  with  a  great 
deal  of  care  some  small  pieces  of  lace,  said  nothing. 
Just  as  the  messenger  entered,  she  spoke  to  Victor, 
saying : 

"Bring  me  your  two  cravats,  I  will  iron  them  a 
little." 


ilO  MARKOF. 

Victor  hurriedly  seized  them  both  and  presented 
them  to  this  modest  benefactress.  A  look  exchanged 
between  them,  told  them  of  their  mutual  anxiety; 
without  knowing  why,  they  dreaded  this  messenger, 
who  seemed  to  forbode  no  good.  De*miane  read  the 
letter,  and  looked  at  his  watch,  then  hesitated  for  an 
instant,  and  after  having  cast  a  furtive  glance  into  the 
next  room,  where  his  friends,  who  were  motionless, 
were  awaiting  his  decision,  said : 

"  Beg  the  Princess  to  excuse  me.  I  must  be  in  the 
Concert  Hall  in  two  hours,  I  cannot  comply  with 
her  —  "  He  sought  for  the  word,  and  then  with  some 
emphasis,  concluded :  "  her  commands." 

The  careless  messenger  withdrew,  and  Demiane, 
carrying  his  head  higher  than  usual,  went  to  join  the 
two  young  people. 

"  Will  you  say  again,  Helene,  that  I  am  a  man  with- 
out dignity?"  said  he  with  a  grand  and  self-satisfied 
air. 

She  looked  at  him  furtively,  and  smiled,  made  a  mo- 
tion with  her  head  which  was  with  her  a  sign  of  satis- 
faction, and  then  to  palliate  what  there  might  be  too 
flattering  in  this  approbation,  she  calmly  replied  : 

"  One  swallow  does  not  make  a  summer." 

"  What  must  you  have  then  ?  "  said  the  artist. 

"  A  whole  flock  of  swallows !  "  answered  Helene  with 
her  mysterious  smile. 

"  I  am  very  stupid,"  thought  Derniane  within  him- 
self, "to  bother  myself  about  what  she  thinks!  " 

Poor  Demiane  was  one  of  those  who  cannot  do  with- 
out the  approbation  of  others ;  that  was  his  weakness, 


MARKOF.  411 

but  that  also  was  the  hope  of  those  who  loved  him,  for 
this  desire  for  approbation  would  bring  him  back  to 
them  some  day  or  other.  Victor  who  had  a  naturally 
compassionate  soul,  went  to  join  his  brother  to  have 
a  little  conversation  with  him  in  order  to  reward  him 
for  his  fine  conduct.  This  was  what  between  Helene 
and  himself  they  called  "  temporarily  raising  the  quar- 
antine." 

The  hall  was  full.  Raben  was  conspicuous  in  the  first 
row  of  chairs,  with  the  newest  of  all  his  eye-glasses; 
the  concert  began ;  several  artists  of  the  orchestra  of 
the  Bathing  Establishment  brought  the  tribute  of  their 
talent  to  the  Caucasian  wounded ;  Helene  played  the 
Grande  Polonaise  and  was  recalled  twice  amid  the  most 
extraordinary  enthusiasm.  She  was  so  pretty  that  she 
seemed  to  radiate  light  around  her.  Demiane  pre- 
sented himself,  bowed  to  the  public,  was  applauded, 
bowed  again  and  was  re-applauded,  and  then  bowed 
once  more,  shouldered  his  violin  and  looked  around  the 
hall.  The  Princess  was  not  present  at  the  concert. 

"  Yes,  my  handsome  friend,  so  it  is,"  Raben  seemed 
to  say  to  him  who  was  looking  at  him  with  curious 
eyes :  "  you  wished  it,  war  is  declared  !  " 

Demiane  possessed  when  it  was  necessary,  an  heroic 
soul :  he  made  a  sign  to  Helene  and  they  played  the 
concerto  as  they  had  never  played  anything  in  their 
lives  before. 

"  Bravo !  bravo  !  "  cried  Raben  half  rising  to  applaud. 
Nearly  all  the  hall  followed  his  example ;  their  High- 
nesses bestowed  their  compliments  on  the  two  artists  with 
the  most  gracious  smile,  and  three  bouquets,  which  had 


412  MARKOF. 

been  ordered  after  the  Polonaise,  successively  reached 
Helene,  who  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  them  anc1 
would  have  much  preferred  not  to  have  received  any 
thing  than  to  have  been  thus  complimented  at  Demi 
ane's  expense. 

When  they  had  retired  into  the  artist's  drawing-room, 
our  friend,  who  was  a  little  bewildered  with  so  many 
diverse  emotions,  wiped  his  brow  with  a  handkerchief, 
which  that  day  was  not  a  torn  one,  and  turned  towards 
Helene  to  cover  his  embarrassment.  The  Princess' 
absence  was,  in  truth,  a  declaration  of  war ;  but  he  had 
provoked  it,  and  now  he  asked  himself  if  Cleopatre's 
love,  that  was  so  strange,  so  intoxicating,  so  little  like 
any  of  which  he  had  ever  dreamed,  was  not  going  to 
escape  him.  This  idea  so  filled  his  heart,  that  in  lieu  of 
something  better,  he  was  just  perhaps,  going  to  ask 
little  Helcme  what  she  thought  of  this  extraordinary 
absence,  when  the  latter  gently  laid  her  pretty  little 
hand  on  our  hero's  arm,  who  mechanically  cast  his  eyes 
on  what  she  was  holding  in  her  other  hand,  then  raised 
them  again  to  his  friend's  eyes,  for  it  is  always  in  the 
eyes  that  one  seeks  for  the  explanation  of  a  mystery ; 
it  was  one  of  the  bouquets  which  she  had  just  received, 
that  she  held. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  Helene  with  a  voice  whose 
exquisite  sweetness  made  one  think  of  certain  perfumes 
of  oriental  flowers,  that  are  as  delicate  and  penetrating 
as  a  breath  of  spring ;  "  do  you  remember,  Demiane, 
that  you  sent  me  my  first  bouquet? " 

He  suddenly  recalled  the  great  empty  drawing-room, 
the  grand  piano,  the  fragrant  bouquet  in  its  vase  and 


MARKOF.  413 

the  beginning  of  this  strange  friendship  which  had  all 
at  once,  given  him  a  sort  of  family  relation. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  with  a  joyous  tone.  That  time  was 
far,  very  far  away,  and  still  hardly  more  than  a  few 
months  really  separated  him  from  it ;  but  his  present 
existence  seemed  to  him  as  though  his  temples  were 
bound  in  an  iron  band  when  he  compared  it  to  that 
happy  time. 

"  One  cannot  give  flowers  to  men,"  continued  He'le'ne, 
with  a  smile  full  of  feeling  that  played  about  the  cor- 
ners of  her  mouth,  perhaps  to  check  the  tears  that*were 
ready  to  rise  in  her  heart ;  "  I  cannot  offer  you  these 
bouquets  ;  but  they  are  yours  Demiane,  wholly  yours ; 
take  a  little  sprig  of  green,  some  little  thing,  as  an  em- 
blem of  all  the  rest,  which  belongs  to  you." 

She  did  not  think  it  either  sentimental  or  ridiculous, 
this  little  Hel£ne  !  to  give  him  a  souvenir  of  this  day, 
Demiane  extended  his  hand  towards  the  bouquet,  broke 
off  a  sprig  of  myrtle  and  smelt  of  it,  and  put  it  in 
his  side  pocket,  and  felt  no  more  need  of  answering 
his  young  friend  than  the  latter  felt  of  saying  anything 
further  to  him. 

They  stood  thus,  one  in  front  of  the  other,  both  look- 
ing at  the  flowers  that  said  so  many  and  such  different 
things  to  them ;  then  their  looks  met,  and  they  ex- 
changed a  smile  that  was  as  furtive  and  as  full  of  feel- 
ing as  a  kiss.  She  turned  away  her  eyes,  but  Demiane 
continued  looking  at  her.  The  sight  of  this  good  and 
pure  young  girl  did  him  wonderful  good ;  it  seemed  to 
plunge  his  soul  into  a  Lethean  bath,  in  associating  in 
his  mind  the  memories  of  Jaroslav  and  those  of  the 
present  time. 


414  MARKOF. 

••  I  should  be  very  sad  without  her,"  said  he  to  him- 
self suddenly  :  "  in  the  fever  whieh  I  have  caught  hero 
she  has  been  the  spring  of  pure  water  that  has  refreshed 
me.  I  thank  you  Helene,"  said  he,  simply,  thus  ter- 
minating his  thought  aloud.  And  without  knowing 
why,  moved  by  a  desire  to  express  his  gratitude  better, 
lie  raised  the  little  pianiste's  eool  hand  to  his  lips,  kissed 
it  respeetfully,  and  then  pressed  it  to  his  moist  e\ 

She  looked  at  him  surprised:  then  an  indeseribable 
joy  transfigured  her  faee  :  and  she  pressed  her  bouquet 
elose  to  her  breast  and  left  the  artist's  drawing-room. 

B 

An  instant  later  Raben  entered  and  went  straight 
towards  Demiane. 

k*  The  Prineess  is  a  little  indisposed,"  said  he  with 
that  ease  of  manner  whieh  the  young  artist  envied  so 
much?  she  eommissioned  me  to  beg  you  to  eome  this 
evening  and  play  some  musie  with  Madamoiselle  Helene. 
Where  is  Mademoiselle  Helene  ?  I  thought  I  saw  her 
here  an  instant  ago." 

"  Mademoiselle  Mianof  has  returned  home  without 
doubt,"  said  Demiane  in  a  grave  tone  ;  "  I  do  not  know, 
monsieur,  whether  we  ean  go  this  evening." 

fc*  Try  to  do  so,  my  friend,  do  your  best  ;  you  have 
refused  several  times  to  go  to  the  Princess,  she  told  me 
so." 

"She  told  you  so?"  repeated  Demiane  who  was  infi- 
nitely surprised. 

"She  told  me  so  !  what  is  there  astonishing  in  that  ?" 
said  Raben  with  marvellous  sang-froid.  "  You  would 
not  like  to  quarrel  with  her;  she  has  a  great  esteem  for 
your  talent ;  she  has  even  used  the  word  genius  in 


MARKOF.  415 

speaking  of  you.  Come,  I  beg  of  you.  in  her  name  and 
my  own,  if  my  voice  can  have  any  influence  with  you." 

"  Very  well,  monsieur,  we  will  go,"  replied  D^miane, 
affecting  the  same  coolness  as  Raben,  while  this  event 
filled  him  with  a  mad  joy.  The  Princess  begged  him 
to  go  to  her  after  his  morning's  refusal ;  she,  therefore, 
confessed  herself  conquered  I  With  the  moderation 
usual  to  his  age,  he  determined  to  abuse  the  superiority 
she  had  accorded  him,  and  on  returning  to  his  home,  he 
told  Helene  of  this  invitation. 

"  As  you  please,  my  friend,"  she  replied ;  and  they 
exchanged  only  a  few  insignificant  remarks  until  the 
evening. 


416  MARKOF. 

CHAPTER  XL VIII. 

INSULT    AND    SEPARATION. 

npHE  drawing-room  was  more  brilliantly  lighted  than 
X  usual,  the  servants  less  respectful,  and  the  service 
more  noisy ;  through  the  open  doors  and  windows  blew 
a  slight  breeze,  making  the  leaves  and  flowers,  which 
were  placed  in  large  vases,  tremble,  and  which  gave 
them  a  restless  look  that  was  in  harmony  with  all  the 
rest.  The  Prince,  who  had  come  into  the  drawing-room 
immediately  after  dinner,  wore  a  very  animated  expres- 
sion ;  during  the  repast  he  had  spoken  several  times, 
thus  provoking  the  curiosity  of  his  guests  and  the 
anxiety*  of  his  wife,  who  thought  him  astonishingly 
excited,  and  hardly  was  he  installed  in  his  customary 
place,  than  he  had  imperiously  asked  for  two  very  dif- 
ferent things,  but  which  comprised  all  happiness  for 
him :  music  and  ices. 

Cleopatre  had  given  orders  to  serve  him  the  latter 
with  moderation,  and  had  promised  him  that  he  would 
not  have  to  wait  long  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  the 
other.  For  she  had,  in  truth,  invited  for  that  evening 
not  only  De*miane,  but  most  of  the  artists  who  had  taken 
part  in  the  concert.  This  was  the  mortification  which 
she  had  planned  to  punish  the  young  man  for  his  pre- 
sumption, and  "  to  put  him  back  in  his  place." 

Monsieur  and  Madame  Moutine,  who  had  been  invi- 
ted several  times,  had  limited  themselves  until  then  to 
short  afternoon  visits ;  but  they  also  felt  that  things 


MARKOF.  417 

were  coming  to  a  crisis  without  knowing  why.  The 
kind  of  nervous  thrill  which  runs  through  all  the  mem- 
bers of  one  society  when  some  moral  storm  is  preparing, 
had  taken  possession  of  them  as  well  as  of  the  others, 
and  it  was  the  physician  who  had  made  his  wife  decide 
to  accompany  him,  "to  keep  little  Hdlene  company." 

Cleopatre  had  never  been  as  beautiful  as  she  was  that 
evening.  Raben,  who  had  dined  at  the  villa,  could  not 
help  remarking  the  brilliancy  of  her  eyes,  and  the 
changing  color  in  her  cheeks,  which  gave  her  a  more 
excited  air  than  usual ;  from  time  to  time  a  slight 
tremor  of  anger  or  of  impatience  passed  over  her,  and 
made  the  pendants  that  hung  on  a  curious  bracelet 
which  she  often  wore,  tremble.  Her  white  silk  dress, 
that  was  made  of  a  lustreless  and  heavy  material  that 
fell  in  thick  folds,  moulded  her  superb  form  in  the  Ori- 
ental fashion,  and  was  only  caught  up  very  low  down 
by  a  winding  scarf.  This  new  way  of  dressing  herself, 
\vhich  no  one  had  dared  to  adopt  until  then,  won  cries 
of  admiration  for  her  from  nearly  all  the  men,  and 
some  half-flattering,  half-alarmed  remarks  from  the  few 
women  who  composed  her  society,  not  one  of  whom 
would  have  dared  to  express  the  least  disapproval  of  it. 

Raben  alone,  who  had  not  given  up  the  idea  of  mar- 
rying her  when  the  Prince's  death  would  leave  her  free, 
allowed  himself,  as  her  eventual  husband,  to  express 
some  words  of  criticism. 

"  You  are  too  beautiful,"  he  said  to  her  in  a  low  voice, 
when  she  appeared  in  the  doorway,  throwing  out  her 
wonderful  profile  against  the  dark  material  of  the  cur- 
tains. 

26 


418  MARKOF. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  proud  smile,  in  which  a  sort 
of  interrogation  was  mingled. 

"  You  are  too  beautiful  for  every  one  to  see,"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  a  man  who  loved  you  would  prefer  that  you 
would  be  as  handsome  as  this  for  himself  alone." 

"  Beauty  is  power,  Raben ;  I  think  I  have  already 
told  you  so,"  she  answered,  passing  in  front  of  him. 

Wearing  only  white,  with  gold  ornaments,  a  massive 
gold  comb  in  her  hair,  and  on  her  arms  bracelets  of 
pure  gold,  which  were  almost  rude  in  their  form, 
Cle'opatre  could  successfully  challenge  any  other  won- 
der in  dress ;  for  no  one  saw  anything  else  save  herself 
in  her  drawing-room,  which  was,  however,  so  rich,  since 
she  entirely  filled  it  with  the  incomparable  radiance  of 
her  beauty. 

The  guests  began  to  arrive ;  Valdrien  and  his  wife 
had  the  honor  of  an  especially  gracious  reception ;  after 
having  installed  Groucha  in  a  comfortable  and  well- 
placed  arm-chair,  the  young  physician  had  gone  and  sat 
down  beside  the  Prince,  whom  he  had  examined  for 
rather  a  long  time.  The  old  man  had  talked  to  him 
with  the  new  loquacity  which  seemed  strange  to  those 
who  knew  him,  and  on  leaving  him,  Valerien  had 
forbidden  his  servant  to  give  him  any  more  sweets  that 
evening.  "  Especially  no  ices,"  he  said :  and  then  he 
went  to  mingle  with  the  other  guests.  Valerien  knew 
how  to  make  himself  a  particular  place,  wherever  he 
went — the  place  of  a  man  whom  nothing  can  injure, 
who  has  need  of  no  one,  and  of  whom  every  one  may 
have  need. 

The   invited   artists  had   come ;    they   had   already 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  419 

played  a  little  music,  but  De*miane  did  not  appear.  The 
Princess,  beckoning  to  Raben,  made  him  approach  her. 

"  Did  you  tell  him  ? "  said  she,  with  a  nervous  trem- 
bling in  her  lips  which  grew  pale,  in  spite  of  the  effort 
of  her  will  to  prevent  it. 

"  Yes,  Princess ;  do  I  not  do  all  that  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Did  he  understand  ?  " 

"  He  certainly  understood,  madame,  at  least,  as  much 
as  you  desired  he  should  understand,  —  perhaps  even 
more." 

She  looked  at  Raben  with  a  sort  of  fierceness  that 
well  suited  her  thin  face  and  her  strange  attire. 

44  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  she,  fixing  her  cruel 
eyes  on  those  of  the  diplomatist. 

44  Nothing  that  you  are  not  capable  of  having  thought, 
Princess." 

She  was  going  to  reply,  when  a  movement  at  the 
door  made  her  turn  her  head  away.  She  was  wild  with 
impatience,  and  yet  she  made  this  motion  with  a  noble 
dignity  which  Raben  admired  with  all  his  heart.  She 
was  made  to  wear  a  crown,  and  under  that  crown  to 
receive  all  homage  as  well  as  all  affronts,  still  pre- 
serving her  smile  of  haughty  kindness. 

44  What  an  ambassadress  you  would  make  !  "  said  he 
to  her,  in  a  whisper. 

She  had  heard  him,  and  he  divined  it  from  a  slight 
movement  of  her  arm ;  but  she  said  nothing,  and  con- 
tinued looking  at  the  door. 

Demiane  had  just  entered,  looking  extremely  pale  in 
his  white  cravat,  but  with  his  head  carried  high  and 
with  a  confident  look;  the  glance  of  these  two  persons, 


420  MARK  OF. 

who  had  every  reason  for  adoring  each  other,  met  with 
absolute  indifference,  which,  under  the  existing  circunir 
stances,  was  the  most  outrageous  of  challenges. 

"  Good-evening,  Monsieur  Markof,"  said  the  Princess 
in  her  clear  voice,  without  making  a  movement ;  "  we 
are  waiting  for  you.  Well !  and  Mademoiselle  Hel£ne  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Mianof  must  have  come  here  some 
moments  ago,  Madame,"  replied^  Demiane,  bowing  be- 
fore her  with  respect. 

It  was  true.  Little  Helene  had  entered  quietly  with 
some  other  ladies,  and  without  making  any  noise  had 
slipped  in  near  to  Madame  Moutine. 

The  eyes  of  the  guests  sought  the  young  girl,  and  this 
movement  of  curiosity  brought  a  slight  rosy  tint  to  her 
cheeks.  She  rose  and  went  straight  to  the  Princess, 
irreproachable  in  her  modesty,  and  wortlry  of  all  respect. 
She  was  dressed  in  pale  blue,  that  was  as  pale  and  as 
sweet  as  the  forget-me-nots  which  she  wore  in  her  hair 
and  carried  in  her  hand.  These  humble  brook-flowers, 
that  were  grouped  in  her  superb  hair  in  thick  masses, 
were  made  for  her,  as  she  was  made  to  do  them  honor. 

"  You  did  not  come  together ! "  said  the  Princess, 
with  that  smile  that  excused  the  greatest  impertinences 
as  they  fell  from  her  mouth,  for  no  one  ever  knew 
whether  she  was  in  jest  or  not.  "I  thought  you 
scarcely  ever  left  each  other." 

"Mademoiselle  Mianof  has  made  herself  an  inde- 
pendent place  to-day  in  the  esteem  of  artists  and  of 
the  public,"  replied  Demiane  valiantly,  who  was  piqued, 
one  could  not  say  why,  at  Cle'opatre's  remark. 

"They  told  me  so  just  now,"   the  latter  answered 


MAHKOF.  421 

carelessly,  letting  the  challenge  fall ;  "  I  congratulate 
you,  Mademoiselle.  I  was  not  able  to  hear  you,  I  regret 
it." 

Hdldne  bowed  and  answered  nothing,  to  the  great 
scandal  of  the  ladies,  who  looked  at  each  other.  That 
little  musician  should  have  replied  by  placing  herself  at 
the  service  of  the  lady  of  the  house.  Was  it  possible 
to  have  so  little  manners ! 

"  Some  music  !  "  said  the  Prince  in  a  hoarse  and  hesi- 
tating voice,  which  was  not  at  all  natural  to  him,  who 
spoke  seldom  but  with  a  great  deal  of  distinctness. 

These  words  removed  the  difficulty  of  the  situation. 

"Do  you  hear,  Mademoiselle?"  said  the  Princess, 
with  the  same  smile. 

Helene  laid  down  her  bouquet  on  the  piano,  took  off 
her  gloves  and  began  to  play. 

A  great  silence  fell  upon  the  large  room,  so  great 
that  they  distinctly  heard  a  light  breeze  pass  over  the 
leaves  in  the  garden ;  the  flame  of  the  candles  trembled 
above  their  crystal  supports,  then  calm  was  re-estab- 
lished, and  some  sounds  that  were  so  delicate,  so  soft 
that  they  seemed  to  float  in  the  very  atmosphere,  arose 
in  the  drawing-room.  After  an  instant's  attention, 
every  one  understood  that  he  was  going  to  enjoy  one  of 
those  delights  in  pure  Art  which  may  be  experienced 
two  or  three  times  in  an  existence,  and  which  make  an 
era  in  life. 

D^miane  had  retired  a  little,  and  as  he  stood  leaning 
against  the  door  of  an  adjoining  drawing-room,  he  lis- 
tened to  what  Helene  was  playing,  and  thought  he 
heard  it  for  the  first  time.  By  degrees  he  let  himself 


422  MARK  OF. 

be  cradled  by  his  revery,  he  forgot  Cleopatre  and  the 
struggle  begun,  closed  his  eyes  and  thought  that  the 
young  girl,  playing  for  him  alone,  was  relating  a  story 
to  him  which  it  seemed  to  him  he  already  vaguely 
knew. 

It  was  the  story  of  a  resigned,  but  still  young  and 
ardent  heart,  who,  in  the  obscurity  of  a  poor  and  joy- 
less life,  was  ignorant  of  everything,  save  Art  and  the 
enjoyments  it  procures;  to  this  humble  heart,  that  was 
contented  with  little,  each  day  was  pleasant,  provided 
it  brought  no  sorrow  with  it,  and  the  sighs  which  it 
sometimes  let  escape  were  not  those  of  envy  or  regret, 
but  those  of  a  melancholy  which  had  no  bitterness. 
Suddenly,  with  a  few  flowers,  the  sunshine  had  entered 
into  this  soul,  but  an  April  sunshine,  which  was  often 
veiled  by  clouds,  so  often,  that  at  times  it  would  have 
preferred  to  have  been  ignorant  of  the  sun  and  the 
trouble  which  its  rays  had  brought  forth.  Then  had 
come  austere  work  which  consoles  for  everything,  that 
was  but  little  rewarded  but  yet  rich  in  solemn  sweet- 
ness,—  and  a  new  struggle,  no  longer  with  poverty,  but 
with  the  enemy,  the  enemy  of  happiness,  the  one  that 
wished  to  banish  the  sunshine  from  this  existence  ;  oh ! 
then,  the  wounded  heart  had  found  weapons,  noble 
weapons,  of  the  kind  which  one  bears  openly,  and  be- 
hold now,  powerful  and  as  proud  as  the  eagle  that  beats 
his  wings  above  the  summits  of  the  Caucasus,  the  vic- 
torious soul  hovered  in  the  ether  and  sang  its  triumph ! 
Yes,  its  triumph,  De*miane ;  but  to  place  in  your  loved 
hands  the  palms  of  its  victory,  or  rather  the  sprig  of 
myrtle  which,  still  green  and  perfumed,  embalmed  your 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  423 

note-book  in  the  pocket  of  your  dress-coat,  that  sprig 
of  myrtle,  which  was  the  symbol  of  little  Helene's 
whole  life,  which  had  been  formerly  disdained,  and 
which  to-day  unveiled  itself  as  a  greater  artist  and  a 
greater  soul  than  yourself. 

He  opened  his  eyes,  and  a  thunder  of  applause,  for 
which  the  Princess,  with  perfect  good  taste,  had  given 
the  signal,  awakened  him  from  his  dream.  With 
twenty  other  people  he  approached  the  piano ;  but 
Hdlene  was  too  much  surrounded  to  be  able  to  perceive 
him ;  in  an  absent  way,  he  took  up  the  bouquet  of  for- 
get-me-nots, and  plunged  his  burning  face  into  it  to 
breathe  its  moist  freshness.  The  rustle  of  heavy  silk 
made  him  turn  round  brusquely,  and  he  saw  the  Prin- 
cess slowly  enter  the  long  line  of  drawing-rooms  that 
jed  to  her  boudoir.  He  rushed  after  her  at  once,  and 
joined  her  in  a  moment.  She  did  not  seem  to  have 
heard  the  noise  of  his  footsteps  ;  he  called  to  her  softly. 

"  Princess  !  "  said  he. 

She  turned  round. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  said,  in  her  indifferent 
tone. 

They  were  alone ;  the  crowd  was  stifling  in  the  large 
drawing-room ;  some  old  generals,  who  were  desperate 
players,  of  the  kind  that  would  play  on  their  death- 
beds, were  playing  some  games  of  preference  in  an  ad- 
joining drawing-room,  and  the  rest  of  the  villa  was 
deserted.  The  Princess  threw  a  glance  down  the  long 
line  of  lighted  rooms,  and  assured  herself  that  no  one 
could  hear  them. 

u  Well,  what  do  you  want  ? "  she  repeated,  looking 
Demiane  this  time  in  the  face. 


424  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

"  You  cannot  receive  me  when  I  ask  you  to  do  so," 
said  the  latter,  impelled  by  an  increasing  anger ;  "  you 
do  not  love  me  any  more." 

"  I  might  have  received  you  this  morning,"  returned 
the  Princess,  calmly.  "It  was  you  who  refused,  I 
return  your  assertion  to  you." 

"  You  do  not  love  me  any  more,"  repeated  Ddmiane, 
who  was  too  much  irritated  to  allow  himself  to  be 
diverted  from  his  sole  thought ;  "  you  are  tired  of  me." 

"Those  are  things  which  are  not  said,  monsieur, 
between  well-bred  people,"  replied  Cldopatre,  with  an 
accent  of  provoking  disdain. 

"  But  between  well-bred  people  they  can  be  thought, 
can  they  not  ?  provided  they  do  not  utter  them  ?  With 
you  appearances  save  everything." 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  Monsieur  Markof,  do  not  have  a  scene 
with  me^  I  beg  of  you !  Nothing  is  more  tiresome  and 
more  useless." 

"  Then,"  said  Demiane,  stretching  forward  his  arm 
violently,  to  seize  her  by  the  liand,  "  you  do  not  love 
me  any  more  ?"  • 

"  And  who  told  you  that  I  have  ever  loved  you  ?  " 
returned  Cldop&tre,  drawing  back  a  little,  but  looking 
him  full  in  the  face. 

Demiane  drew  back  in  his  turn ;  this  blow  was  so 
unexpected  that  it  found  him  defenceless.  A  sort  of 
horror  entered  into  his  soul,  and  he  did  not  wish  to 
believe  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses. 

"You  have  not  loved  me,"  he  repeated,  slowly. 
"  But  if  you  did  not  love  me " 

Cldopatre  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  wished  to  pass 
him ;  Ddmiane  barred  the  passage  to  her. 


MARK  OF.  425 

"If  you  have  not  loved  me,"  said  he,  brutally,  "why 
have  you  received  me  there  ?  " 

He  pointed  to  the  door  of  the  boudoir,  which  was  at 
a  little  distance.  The  Princess  shrugged  her  shoulders 
again,  and,  instead  of  pursuing  her  way,  she  returned, 
without  hastening,  towards  the  drawing-room. 

"  If  you  have  not  loved  me,  why  am  I  here  ?  why — " 

"Why?"  returned  Cleopatre,  measuring  him  with 
superb  contempt,  "to  play  the  violin,  my  dear  Mon- 
sieur Markof." 

Struck  to  the  heart,  Demiane  stood  motionless  and 
stunned,  mechanically  listening  to  the  noise  which  the 
long  silk  train  made  as  it  swept  slowly  away  with  a  regu- 
lar movement.  When  the  Princess  reached  the  large 
drawing-room  and  he  had  seen  her  disappear  among  the 
guests,  he  came  back  to  himself  and  rushed  after  her. 
She  was  already  seated  in  an  arm-chair  and  was  talking 
with  her  usual  grace.  In  the  door  of  the  card-room,  he 
met  Raben  who  put  his  hand  on  his  arm : 

"  No  scandal,"  said  the  diplomatist  to  him,  in  a  very 
low  but  firm  tone  ;  he  had  divined  the  preceding  scene 
from  the  little  he  had  been  able  to  observe  from  a  dis- 
tance. "  A  scandal  would  be  the  ruin  of  you." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  anything ! "  said  Ddmiane 
proudly. 

"  Bah!  it  is  a  great  deal  better  to  live  in  peace,  happy 
and  honored — " 

De'miane  qast  down  his  head ;  the  word  "  live  "  made 
him  shudder.  He  followed  Rabeii  into  the.  drawing- 
room,  and  found  himself  near  H£lene  who  for  a  moment 
had  been  looking  for  him,  with  an  anxiety  which  she 


426  MARKOF. 

scarcely  knew  how  to  dissimulate.  He  saw  her,  but 
vaguely,  his  eyes  that  were  blinded  by  a  desire  for 
vengeance,  only  perceived  the  shimmer  of  the  Princess' 
heavy  white  silk  dress,  with  its  clinging  folds,  as  she 
sat  in  her  arm-chair. 

"Another  ice  !  "  said  the  Prince  very  loudly,  who  had 
taken  advantage  of  his  wife's  disappearance  to  stop  a 
waiter  passing  before  him  and  to  have  himself  helped 
abundantly  by  a  servant  who  was  ignorant  of  the  phy- 
sician's orders. 

Cle'opatre  rose  hastily,  addressed  a  few  words  of 
reproach,  consolation  and  tenderness  to  her  husband, 
and  after  having  calmed  him,  she  returned  to  her 
guests.  The  animation  of  the  soire'e,  which  had  been 
BO  great,  seemed  to  languish.  On  meeting  De'miane's 
eyes  that  were  steadily  fixed  on  her  with  a  mixture  of 
stupor  and  indignation,  an  idea  that  was  worthy  of 
her  struck  her  mind. 

"  It  is  your  turn  now,  Monsieur  Markof,"  said  she, 
"  a  little  music,  if  you  please." 

Her  voice  which  was  as  clear  as  a  clarion  made  the 
Prince  tremble,  and  he  sat  motionless,  looking  at  her 
with  his  mouth  half-open.  All  eyes  were  turned  towards 
the  young  violinist. 

"Will  your  Highness  excuse  me,"  replied  Demiane 
in  a  voice  that  was  equally  clear  and  aggressive.  "  I 
am  fatigued  from  the  morning's  concert." 

"Do  you  refuse  me?"  said  Cl£opatre;  slightly  re- 
treating. 

He  bowed  respectfully ;  all  his  calmness  had  returned 
to  him ;  and  he  now  felt  master  of  himself,  for  he  had 
taken  his  revenge. 


MARKOF.  427 

"  It  is  not  a  refusal,  your  Highness,  it  is  a  prayer." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  so  easily  discouraged," 
returned  the  Princess  wickedly ;  "  it  is  since  Mademoi- 
selle Helene's  great  success  that  you  refuse  to  let 
yourself  be  heard !  " 

The  entire  company  trembled.  Demiane's  eyes  shot 
forth  a  gleam ;  then  suddenly  joy  overspread  his  face ; 
he  seized  Helene's  hand,  who,  wounded  to  her  heart, 
was  looking  at  him  with  anguish. 

"  I  could  not  be  jealous,"  said  he,  "  of  Mademoiselle 
Mianof  s  talent,  for  in  a  short  time  she  is  going  to 
become  my  wife." 

"Bravo!"  said  Raben  advancing  towards  him  to 
shake  his  hand.  His  example  was  followed  by  a  great 
many  good  people  who  did  not  suspect  the  least  in  the 
world,  the  heroism  of  which  their  musical-leader  had 
•ust  given  proof. 

Cle'opatre  had  almost  imperceptibly  drawn  back 
again,  and  her  hand  rested  on  the  back  of  her  hus- 
band's arm-chair.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 
was  conquered,  and  the  shock  staggered  her. 

"He  —  he  is  going  to  marry  her?"  stammered  the 
Prince  pulling  her  by  the  dress. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  yes,  he  is  going  to  marry  her," 
replied  Cleopatre  with  instinctive  solicitude. 

"Present  him — present  him — my  congratulations — " 
continued  the  old  man  persistently. 

Slowly  Cleopatre  approached  the  group  which  sur- 
rounded the  young  people,  and  which  opened  before 
her. 

"I  offer  you  my  congratulations,"  said  she  in  her 


428  MARK  OF. 

ringing  voice,  "and  the  Prince  begs  me  to  bear  his 
congratulations  to  you.  But  one  sees  plainly  that  you 
are  an  artist,  Monsieur  Markof,  for  you  are  fond  of 
theatrical  surprises — nothing  had  made  us  foresee  this 
happy  ending." 

The  Princess'  clear  and  disdainful  laugh  rang  through 
the  apartment,  but  without  finding  an  echo. 

"  It  is  not  so  extraordinary,"  said  Raben,  thus  pre- 
venting an  answer  which  would,  perhaps,  have  been 
sharper  from  Ddmiane's  side ;  "  such  a  charming 
couple  —  " 

"  Oh !  Count,  you  are  romantic,"  said  Cldopatre  with 
indescribable  contempt. 

At  this  moment  Valerien  Moutine  approached  the 
Princess,  while  his  wife  was  taking  Helene  aside. 

"Dismiss  your  guests,  Madame,"  said  the  physician 
in  a  low  voice,  "the  Prince  is  not  well,  I  fear  he  is 
going  to  have  an  attack." 

Cleopatre  turned  eagerly  to  her  husband.  For  him 
alone  she  could  depart  from  her  apparent  calm.  Let 
the  world  crumble,  it  matters  little  provided  her  fetish 
was  spared!  —  The  Prince,  who  continued  motionless 
and  stunned,  looked  at  her,  and  his  expressionless 
eyes  seemed  to  grow  dim.  She  laid  her  hands  which 
trembled,  this  time,  on  her  husband's  cold  hand,  and 
addressed  the  physician  a  mute  and  despairing  question. 

He  answered  with  a  sign ;  the  servants  immediately 
rolled  the  arm-chair  with  the  invalid  into  the  private 
apartments,  and  no  one  perceived  his  condition. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  Princess,  when  the 
object  of  her  solicitude  was  sheltered  from  curious  eyes, 


MARKOP.  429 

"the  Prince  is  slightly  indisposed,  you  will  kindly 
excuse  me  if  I  do  not  keep  you  company  any  longer." 

A  tumult  of  questions  interrupted  her. 

"  Ah !  nothing  serious,"  replied  she  smiling ;  "  a 
trifle,  but  my  duty  —  " 

A  thousand  regrets,  a  thousand  praises,  smothered 
the  remainder  of  her  sentence,  and  five  minutes  later 
the  hinges  of  the  iron  gateway  closed  behind  the  last 
guest. 

Cle*opatre,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  change  her 
toilette,  joined  the  physician  and  his  invalid.  Already 
the  most  powerful  remedies  fought  against  the  evil,  but 
without  success.  At  the  first  ray  of  dawn,  in  her  white 
silk  dress,  which  was  stained  by  the  ice  she  had  held 
all  the  night  through  on  the  dying  man's  head,  the 
Princess  Redine  knelt  mechanically  near  her  husband's 
bed-side ;  but  it  was  a  mere  form  of  proper  piety ;  for 
she  did  not  think  of  praying,  in  the  great  and  hopeless 
grief  that  filled  her  soul :  her  fetish  was  dead. 


430  MAKKOF. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

HELEN E     REFUSES. 

HELENE  and  De'miane,  escorted  by  Madame 
Moutine,  had  returned  home  without  having 
exchanged  a  word.  Each  of  them  felt  that  a  little 
repose  and  reflection  were  necessary  in  order  to  permit 
them  to  clearly  face  the  new  situation  which  the  young 
artist  had  just  created  by  a  few  words.  On  the  thresh- 
old of  their  rooms,  they  exchanged  a  good-night,  with- 
out even  accompanying  it  with  the  habitual  shaking  of 
hands,  and  separated  immediately. 

Victor  welcomed  his  brother  with  two  or  three  com- 
mon-place questions;  he  had  not  expected  him  so  soon; 
how  had  the  evening  passed  ? 

"Very  well,"  replied  Demiane  with  a  preoccupied 
air ;  "  the  Prince  had  an  attack  and  the  Princess  sent 
us  away." 

Victor  looked  at  him  twice,  to  assure  himself  that  he 
was  not  jesting,  but  the  young  violinist  did  not  look  as 
though  he  wished  to  mystify  him.  * 

"In  the  name  of  Heaven,  brother,  what  has  hap- 
pened ?  "  exclaimed  the  good  fellow,  putting  his  hand 
on  D^miane's  shoulder,  and  trying  to  read  Iris  face. 

"  I  am  going  to  marry  little  Helene,"  said  the  artist, 
with  a  gloomy  air. 

The  poor  hunchback  withdrew  his  hand,  looked  at 
his  brother  with  profound  astonishment,  and  then  sud- 
denly a  cry  broke  forth  from  his  oppressed  heart. 


MARKOF.  431 

"  You,  De*miane  ?  Ah !  how  glad  I  am,  how  glad  I 
am!" 

He  was  so  glad  that  he  went  and  threw  himself  on 
his  bed,  and  hid  his  face  in  the  pillow,  sobbing. 

"  Is  that  the  effect  this  news  produces  on  you  ? " 
grumbled  De*miane,  who  was  less  angry  than  surprised. 

Victor  rose,  wiped  his  e}res,  and  held  out  his  arms  to 
his  brother,  saying  to  him : 

"  Excuse  me,  it  is  joy." 

"  A  droll  kind  of  joy  !  "  said  Ddmiane,  yielding  him- 
self to  his  fraternal  embrace,  but  without  warmth. 

The  two  brothers  sat  down  face  to  face,  and  looked 
at  each  other  for  an  instant. 

"And  she"  hazarded  Victor,  "what  does  she  say 
about  it?" 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  by  she  ?  " 

"H£lSne,  my  sister  Hdldne?" 

"Your  sister  Helene  says  nothing  at  all." 

"  How  nothing  ?     Is  she  not  happy  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so !  "  replied  Demiane,  with  a  slight  smile 
of  fatuity. 

And  he  certainly  believed  that  little  Hdlene  was 
happy.  However,  he  thought  it  strange  that  she  had 
not  said  ariythftig  on  their  way  home,  but  he  himself 
had  not  opened  his  mouth. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Victor,  with  hesitation. 
"  How  does  it  happen  that  you  do  not  know  what  she 

thinks?" 

« 

"  We  were  not  alone,"  replied  De'miane,  not  without 
some  repugnance,  for  the  recital  of  what  had  taken 
place  "  down  there  "  seemed  to  him  difficult. 


432  MARKOF. 

44  Was  it  at  the  Princess',  then?" 

"Yes." 

44  Before  everybody  ?  " 

"MonDieu!  how  many  questions!"  said  D&niane, 
impatiently. 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Victor,  seeing  him 
disinclined  to  answer,  would  have  ceased  interrogating 
him  and  would  have  waited  till  the  next  day,  which 
could  not  have  failed  to  have  furnished  him  with  the 
desired  explanation ;  but  Helene's  happiness  was  too 
dear  to  his  heart,  and  he  continued : 

"Does  the  Princess  know  it?"  he  asked,  touching 
the  sore  point  with  a  precision  which  made  De'rniane 
tremble. 

44  Yes." 

44  Then,"  continued  Victor  with  increasing  emotion, 
in  which  this  time  joy  had  its  place,  "  you  have  quar- 
reled with  the  Princess  ?  " 

44  Yes,"  almost  screamed  De*miane,  who  was  furious. 
44  And  now,  do  you  know  enough  ?  " 

44  Ah !  my  brother,  how  glad  I  am  !  "  exclaimed  the 
good  fellow,  this  time  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  and 
without  any  reservation. 

He  seized  his  brother  in  his  arms  with  a  joyous  out- 
burst, and  suddenly  raising  his  hand,  he  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  on  his  rebellious  brow : 

4k  In  the  name  of  our  absent  father,  Deiniane,  I  bless 
you  in  your  new  life,"  said  he,  solemnly. 

The  artist  lowered  his  brow  and  remained  bowed 
beneath  his  elder  brother's  hand.  Their  father's  image 
came  and  stood  between  them,  recalling  the  family  fire- 
side and  filial  duty. 


M  A  R  K  0  F  .  433 

"Listen  to  me,  Victor,"  said  the  young  man  in  a 
calmer  voice,  "I  am  going  to  relate  to  you  what 
occurred  this  evening,  and  you  will  tell  me  whether  I 
have  done  right." 

Having  resolved  to  make  this  confession  he  did  it 
honestly  and  faithfully,  without  taking  from  or  adding 
anything  to  the  truth,  and  when  he  had  finished  he 
waited  in  silence  for  what  his  elder  brother  should  say 
to  him. 

"  Hdle'ne  has  not  replied  to  your  proposal?"  said  the 
latter  in  a  doubtful  tone. 

"  No !    What  need  was  there  of  replying  ?  " 

"  Well,  brother,  I  am  not  sure  that  she  will  accept 
it." 

Demiane  started  up. 

"  And  why  ?  "  he  began  — 

His  brother  stopped  him  with  a  gesture  pointing  to 
the  drawing-room  door  which  alone  separated  their  room 
from  that  of  their  friends. 

"Because  she  may  have  understood  that  you  were 
not  going  to  marry  her  for  herself." 

D&niane's  head  drooped  and  he  walked  to  and  fro  in 
evident  agitation. 

"  May  the  devil  take  all  women !  "  said  he  as  he  was 
getting  ready  to  retire. 

"Not  all !  "  protested  Victor  with  a  half  smile ;  "let 
him  content  himself  by  taking  one  only." 

The   next   morning,    Demiane,  who   had   awakened 

early, —  he  had  scarcely  slept — left  Victor  who  had 

also  not  enjoyed  a  very  refreshing  rest,  still  slumbering, 

and  gently  opening  the  drawing-room  door,  entered  and 

27 


434  MARK  OF. 

closed  it  after  him  and  went  to  the  window  to  breathe 
the  morning  air.  His  sleeplessness  had  left  him  hot  and 
feverish;  the  cool  breeze  which  tossed  his  hair  on  his 
forehead  did  him  good  and  calmed  him.  As  he  stood 
with  his  hand  resting  on  the  window-sill,  looking 
beyond  the  town  at  the  tops  of  the  mountains  piling 
up  one  above  the  other  towards  the  heavens,  he  heard 
a  door  open,  and  turned  round  brusquely,  thinking  it 
was  his  brother. 

It  was  Hel£ne  who,  moved  by  the  same  need  of  soli- 
tude and  coolness,  had  left  the  room  where  her  mother 
was  sleeping,  and  had  come  to  breathe  the  morning  air. 
She  had  shut  the  door  before  she  perceived  De'miane ; 
deceived  by  the  artist's  lazy  habits  she  thought  she  had 
found  Victor  instead  of  his  brother.  However,  Helene 
was  valiant;  she  let  go  the  handle  of  the  door  and  took 
two  steps  forward.  De'miane  approached  her.  She 
saluted  him  with  a  nod  of  her  head.  He  placed  two 
chairs  in  the  embrasure  of  the  window ;  she  took  one  of 
them  and  he  remained  standing  in  front  of  her,  with  his 
hands  resting  on  the  other.  They  both  felt  that  this 
interview  which  they  had  not  sought  would  decide 
their  future  existence. 

"Victor  said  something  to  me  last  night  which  made 
me  afraid,"  began  Demiane  with  an  unsteady  voice; 
"  he  fears  that  you  will  not  consent  to  marry  me ;  how- 
ever, yesterday,  you  did  not  say  110,  Helene ;  his  fear 
is  ill-founded,  is  it  not?" 

She  listened  to  him  motionless ;  her  little  white  peig- 
noir did  not  tremble :  with  her  hands  clasped  on  her 
knees,  and  her  head  a  little  bent  down,  she  seemed  a 
statue  of  attention. 


MAEKOF.  435 

"  Yesterday,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice,  for  she  did 
not  wish  to  wake  those  who  were  sleeping  near,  "I 
could  not  answer  you;  you  had  disposed  of  my  future 
fate  without  my  consent ;  I  am  not  angry  with  you  for 
doing  so ;  it  was  a  vengeance  which  you  had  under  your 
hand,  and  you  made  use  of  it  —  it  was  very  natural." 

"  Then,  you  consent  ?  "  said  Ddmiane  who  was  uncer- 
tain, and  did  not  know  whether  he  should  rejoice  or  be 
sorry. 

"  No,"  said  little  Helene  softly,  lowering  her  head. 

De'miane  bit  his  lips  and  let  go  the  back  of  his  chair ; 
this  mortified,  and  even  caused  him  some  grief. 

"I  understood  very  well  that  you  should  desire  to 
make  that  lady  think  that  I  have  consented,"  con- 
tinued Helene  calmly.  "  So,  during  the  time  which  we 
still  have  to  spend  here, —  a  few  days,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"We  will  leave  to-morrow  if  you  desire  it,"  replied 
D^miane. 

"Very  well.  Until  then,  you  need  not  contradict 
the  announcement  which  you  gave  yesterday  of — of 
that  marriage ;  but  when  we  have  left  this  place,  we 
will  each  take  back  our  liberty,  and  if  later  you  should 
meet  some  one  who  should  ask  you  why  we  have  not 
acted  upon  it,  you  will  reply  that  we  have  changed  our 
minds." 

"  Then,"  said  De'miane,  who  was  overcome  at  the 
tranquil  manner  with  which  she  arranged  all  this,  "  you 
refuse  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  love  me  ! "  replied  Helene  gently,  whose 
cheeks  had  grown  a  little  pale  while  she  was  speaking, 
and  who  turned  away  her  face. 


436  MARKOF. 

He  looked  at  her  surprised.  She  loved  him,  and  she 
refused  him  because  he  did  not  love  her!  What  a 
proud  soul  was  little  Helene's !  He  looked  at  her  with 
new  respect.  For  some  time  past  this  respect  had  been 
increasing,  and  he  had  not  yet  found  where  it  would 
end.  Then  he  felt  hurt  at  this  judgment  passed  upon 
him.  How  could  she  know  that  he  did  not  love  her?" 

"But  I  do  love  you,  Helene!  "  he  continued,  implor- 
ingly. 

She  shook  her  head  with  that  sweet  sadness  that 
gave  her  so  much  charm. 

"  Oh !  no,"  she  said,  "  you  do  not'  love  me  enough ! 
you  love  to  be  loved,  Ddmiane,  and  you  yourself  do 
not  love." 

He  felt  that  she  spoke  the  truth,  but  in  these  words 
he  found  a  new  hope. 

"  If  you  love  me  —  a  little  —  I  love  you  more  than 
you  think.  We  could  still  be  very  happy." 

She  made  a  negative  wave  of  the  hand. ' 

"  You  would  be  very  happy,"  said  she  ;  "  you  would 
love  me  just  enough  to  return  home  whenever  people 
should  cause  you  any  grief  elsewhere ;  you  would  be 
glad  to  find  your  things  in  order,  your  drawers  arranged, 
some  good  music  to  divert  you,  a  good  accompaniment, 
not  too  good,  however ;  you  do  not  like  people  to  accom- 
pany you  too  well,  Demiane  ;  and  after  you  were  rested, 
happy  and  comforted,  you  would  return  to  the  world  to 
pay  attention  to  some  Princess.  You  would  be  very 
happy,  Demiane,  and  I  would  be  very  unhappy." 

The  young  man  had  blushed  from  shame  at  first  and 
from  anger  afterwards ;  he  controlled  himself,  however. 


MARK  OF.  437 

"  How  well  you  know  life,"  said  he  with  bitterness ; 
"  and  how  well,  too,  you  know  my  character !  But  do 
you  not  fear  that  in  occupying  yourself  so  much  about 
your  own  happiness  you  may  become  a  perfect  egotist  ?  " 

"  Egotist  ? "  she  replied,  smiling,  "  that  is  a  word 
which  we  will  share  together  if  you  choose.  And  do 
you  not  see  what  a  singular  union  ours  would  be  ?  We 
quarrel  incessantly ! " 

"  For  some  time  past,  it  is  true,"  replied  Ddmiane ; 
"  formerly  we  used  to  agree." 

"  Because   I   always   yielded,"   said   little    Hel£ne, 
sweetly. 

"  And  why  will  you  not  yield  now  ?  " 

She  blushed ;  it  was  since  she  loved  him  that  she  had 
held  out  against  him,  since  she  hoped  to  see  him  one 
day  worthy  of  the  love  she  had  given  him  so  gener- 
ously in  advance. 

"  Because  one  only  yields  to  children  and  weak  peo- 
ple," said  she.  It  is  a  proof  of  esteem  to  struggle  with 
those  who  deceive  themselves." 

"Do  I  deceive  myself?" 

"  You  deceived  yourself  once,  at  least,  when  you 
thought  that  I  would  accept  your  name." 

D^miane  was  conquered  ;  it  is  always  hard  to  be  con- 
quered, but  especially  so  the  first  time. 

"  Then  you  finally  refuse  me  ?  "  said  he,  sad  and  hu 
miliated. 

She  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Forever  ?  " 

Here  she  felt  herself  grow  weak ;  forever,  that  was 
very  cruel !  Suppose  she  should  discourage  him  and 


438  MARKOF. 

throw  him  into  new  perils?  She  blushed,  and  in  spite 
of  herself  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  took  her  hand 
with  genuine  tenderness.  How  much  dearer  she  be- 
came to  him  in  proportion  as  her  refusal  became  plainer 
and  more  certain  !  At  the  thought  that  she  might  go 
away,  that  he  might  lose  all  the  domestic  joys  of  which 
she  had  ironically  painted  him  the  picture  an  instant 
before,  he  felt  himself  overcome  with  a  regret  which 
greatly  resembled  love. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  she,  in  a  broken  voice,  "  what 
may  happen  later." 

He  sat  down  beside  her,  keeping  the  young  girl's 
small,  cold  and  trembling  hand  in  his.  Since  she  re- 
fused him,  they  would  separate,  and  he  would  lose  the 
charm  of  her  presence.  Those  calm  and  intelligent 
eyes,  which  so  well  divined  his  thoughts,  had  brought 
so  much  joy  into  his  life.  She  wished  to  withdraw  her 
hand,  but  he  retained  it ;  she  turned  away  her  head, 
but  too  late  ;  for  a  tear  had  fallen  on  her  dress,  and 
Demiane  had  seen  it. 

"  You  are  weeping,  Helene,"  said  he  to  her,  feeling  a 
sweet  warmth  rise  from  his  heart  to  his  brain,  and  be- 
coming bolder  than  he  had  thought  himself  capable  of 
being  with  this  young  girl,  who  was  formerly  so  indif- 
ferent to  him;  —  you  are  weeping,  because  it  pains  you 
to  part  from  me;  —  it  is  true,  is  it  not?  You  do  love 
me?  Why  do  you  wish  to  refuse  the  happiness  that 
comes  to  you." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  hastily  from  the  young  man's, 
and  looked  him  in  the  face,  trying  no  longer  to  conceal 
the  tears  that  streamed  down  her  cheeks. 


MARKOF.  439 

"  Yes,  you  are  right/'  said  she,  "  what  is  the  use  of 
lying  !  and  I  do  not  know  how  to  lie  !  Yes,  I  love  you ; 
I  love  you  more  than  my  life,  more  than  my  own  happi- 
ness ;  and  that  is  why  I  will  not  marry  you !  I  do  not 
wish  to  grow  to  hate  you  some  day,  to  despise  you,  per- 
haps. I  would  despise  you  if  you  were  to  me  the 
husband  you  offered  me  last  night.  A  man  who  would 
have  taken  me  from  spite,  from  anger,  in  order  to  get 
out  of  a  disagreeable  affair,  and  who  would  despise  me 
for  having  accepted  him,  knowing  that  he  did  not  love 
me !  If  I  accepted  %you  to-day,  De*miane,  you  would 
think  that  I  had  not  been  aJble  to  resist  my  love  for 
you,  that  I  considered  the  happiness  of  being  your  wife 
above  my  honor,  my  dignity,  my  whole  future.  No,  I 
love  you,  and  I  will  not  marry  you  so  long  as  you  have 
not  the  same  love  for  me  as  I  have  for  you,  a  love  which 
places  the  esteem  for  the  person  one  loves  above  every- 
thing in  this  world." 

"  Helene !  "  exclaimed  Ddmiane,  overcome  and  seized 
with  admiration  for  the  character  which  thus  revealed 
itself,  uyou  shall  be  loved  as  you  wish,  I  swear  to  you! 
Ah  !  I  did  not  know  you  !  " 

"  I  know  it,"  said  she,  returning  to  the  sweet  melan- 
choly which  was  familiar  to  her.  She  wiped  her  eyes 
with  the  loose  sleeve  of  her  peignoir  and  looked  va- 
cantly out  of  the  window. 

"  But  I  know  you  now,  and  I  will  love  you  I  Dear 
Helene,  one  prayer  only  !  Do  not  leave  us !  Let  me 
continue  to  live  near  you,  to  learn  from  your  example 
all  that  I  am  ignorant  of  about  my  dut}r;  and  later, 
perhaps  —  Yes,  will  you  not  ?  " 


440  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 


had  struggled  bravely  ;  she  was  weary,  and 
she  yielded. 

"  Let  us  go  to  Moscow,"  said  she  ;  there  we  will  sep- 
arate." 

"  We  will  see,  will  we  riot  ?  This  is  not  your  last 
word?" 

"  We  will  see,"  said  she. 

He  kissed  her  hand,  which  he  had  taken  again,  and  if 
Cl£opatre  could  have  seen  him,  she  would  have  been 
wounded  to  her  heart,  for  never  had  he  shown  her  such 
profound  respect  nor  such  grave  tenderness. 

"We  will  not  speak  of  this  to  any  one?"  said  'the 
young  girl;  "mamma  knows  nothing  about  it;  she 
shall  remain  ignorant." 

"Not  always,  Helene?"  implored  De*'miane,  as  she 
passed  before  him. 

She  smiled  faintly  and  returned  to  her  room. 

"  She  is  an  angel,  Victor  !  "  said  our  friend,  returning 
to  his  brother,  who  was  all  dressed  and  awaiting  with 
anxiety  for  the  end  of  their  interview.  "  Have  you 
heard  our  conversation  ?  " 

"  You  spoke  loud  enough  for  me  to  do  so  !  Yes,  she 
is  an  angel,  only  you  were  not  capable  of  knowing  it." 


MARKOF.  441 


CHAPTER   L. 

ANDRE    STRUGGLES   AGAINST   VARIOUS   TROUBLES. 

"  II  /TY  dear  friends,  who  have  become  my  confidants, 
JjJL  in  spite  of  my  aversion  for  confidences,  come 
to  my  help !  I  am  positively  losing  my  mind,  and  if 
any  one  of  you  thinks  he  can  infer  from  that  that  I 
have  not  a  sound  mind,  let  him  put  himself  in  my  place ! 
Moreover,  if  you  had  any  compassion  for  a  poor  lonely 
man  at  bay,  you  would  leave  on  the  receipt  of  this 
letter,  and  you  would  see  for  yourselves  whether  there 
exists  under  Heaven  a  more  bewildered  man  than  my- 
self. 

"  I  believe  I  told  you  in  my  last  letter  that  my 
domestic  imp  had  opened  her  mouth  for  the  sole  pur 
pose  of  forbidding  my  going  shooting.  Since  then  I 
have  vainly  alleged  that  as  beasts  were  not  birds,  and 
as  I  would  respect  the  little  birds,  I  would  like  very 
much  to  shoot  a  hare — but  beast  or  bird  is  all  one  to 
her,  and  the  hares  of  the  steppe  are  henceforth  sure  of 
a  fabulous  longevity,  unless  I  set  some  snares  for  them. 
But  what  can  you  do  with  a  hare  unless  you  eat  it  ? 
And  can  you  imagine  how  my  game  would  be  welcomed 
at  home  ?  I  tremble  to  think  of  it ! 

"  My  Kobold  knows  how  to  read  and  write ;  she  has 
even  some  notions  more  strange  than  extensive  on  what 
,is  commonly  called,  I  know  not  why,  Sacred  History ; 


442  MARK  OF. 

for  assuredly  nothing  is  less  sacred,  and  if —  But  this 
would  make  us  digress  from  my  subject;  she  is  not 
sure  whether  the  Jews  and  the  Israelites  were  the  same 
people  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  she  knows  the  history  of 
Joseph  very  well,  and  the  other  day,  when  I  insinuated 
that  hare  was  excellent  dressed  with  sour  cream,  she 
told  me  I  was  as  barbarous  as  the  brothers  of  that 
patriarch. 

"I  think  that  in  order  to  inspire  me  with  more 
respect  she  had  called  all  her  knowledge  to  her  aid, 
but  it  is  nevertheless  a  fact  that  this  rural  muse  has 
a  little  shade  of  what  it  is  agreed  to  call  the  indis- 
pensable. 

"  Well,  the  other  day,  I  had  gone  to  wander  round 
the  steppe,  exactly  as  the  Parisians  go  to  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne ;  for  it  is  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  my  worldliness, 
but  the  sun  broiled  me  so  that  I  returned  home  unex- 
pectedly. As  I  went  into  my  room,  which  is  the 
coolest  in  the  house,  what  did  I  perceive  ?  this  extra- 
ordinary girl  seated  on  the  ground,  almost  bent  double 
in  the  extreme  interest  with  which  she  was  reading  in 
my  Lermontof  the  sad  story  of  Bela.  When  she  saw 
me,  she  sprang  to  her  feet  like  a  child  caught  in  the 
act  of  disobedience,  and  went  towards  the  door,  with 
my  book,  when  she  was  seized  with  remorse.  Although 
her  ideas  with  regard  to  property  are  as  strange  as  the 
rest  of  her  education,  she  has  well  proved  it,  the  poor 
child !  still  apparently  my  books  are  mine,  more  cer- 
tainly mine  than  my  house ;  for  when  she  had  reached 
the  threshold,  she  turned  round  with  the  pretty  gesture 
of  a  child  who  is  obliged  to  do  some  tiresome  act. 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  443 

" c  May  I  take  it  with  me  ? '  said  she  pointing  to  the 
volume. 

" '  Certainly,  Mademoiselle,'  I  replied  with  a  ,grand 
bow. 

"She  made  me  a  very  noble  bow  which  probably 
signified  thank  you,  and  disappeared.  I  had  the  curi- 
osity to  follow  her  to  see  what  she  would  do  with  her 
booty.  She  had  taken  refuge  in  an  arbor  of  young 
vines  at  the  extremity  of  the  garden,  and,  seated  on 
the  ground, — that  is  her  favorite  position  —  she  was 
devouring  the  novel ;  great  tears  were  running  down 
her  face  without  her  heeding  them,  and  I  saw  her 
droop  her  head  in  her  hands  and  sob.  She  had  finished 
her  chapter. 

"  She  wept  so  bitterly  that  it  seemed  to  me  a  case  of 
conscience  not  to  allow  her  to  grieve  in  such  a  way.  I 
approached  with  all  possible  precaution,  and  in  my 
sweetest  voice  said  to  her : 

"  '  Don't  cry,  Mouza,  it  did  not  really  happen.' 

"  She  looked  at  me  through  her  dishevelled  hair  — 
My  friends,  if  you  only  knew  how  pretty  she  was  ! 

" c  It  did  not  happen,'  I  repeated ;  4  it  is  a  story  they 
have  invented.' 

" 4  That  is  not  true  ! '  replied  this  innocent  at  once ; 
'it  is  you  who  are  inventing  that  now.  And  they 
killed  her,  that  poor  Be* la !  And  with  a  blow  from  a 
poniard !  Oh !  the  wicked  people !  And  he,  he  did 
not  love  her,  that  Petchorine !  He  was  wicked  too  ! ' 

"  She  spoke !  and  of  her  own  accord.  The  chance 
was  too  good,  and  I  took  advantage  of  it  to  deliver 
Mouza  an  abridged  lecture  on  the  literature  of  our 


444  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

country;  she  listened  to  me  with  a  contempt  which 
clearly  informed  me  how  perfectly  indifferent  all  those 
things  were  to  her.  When,  my  eloquence  exhausted, 
I  had  finished  speaking,  she  rose,  brushed  her  hair  back, 
and  wished  to  go  away  with  the  book.  I  extended  my 
hand. 

" i  I  am  going  to  take  it,'  said  she,  l  you  gave  it  to 
me.' 

"'To  finish  the  story  about  Bela  only,  and  it  is 
finished.  Return  me  the  book,  the  rest  is  not  inter- 
esting.' 

"  She  hesitated  and  I  thought  for  a  moment  that  she 
was  going  to  run  off  with  my  little  volume,  in  which 
case  I  would  have  been  obliged  to  have  given  up  trying 
to  catch  her;  but  she  submitted,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  and,  very  reluctantly  put  her  treasure  into  my 
hand. 

"  *  I  know  a  great  many  stories,'  said  I  to  her, c  I  could 
relate  them  to  you ;  but  you  detest  me  and  you  never 
wish  to  speak  to  me.' 

"  She  threw  me  a  glance  in  which  confusion,  reproach, 
curiosity  and  something  else  which  was  very  evasive, 
and  very  sweet  were  strangely  mingled,  and  she  cast 
down  her  head.  This  was  a  victory.  I  retired  majes- 
tically, bearing  my  trophy  with  me. 

"  In  the  evening  after  dinner,  instead  of  retiring  as 
she  did  every  day  after  she  had  nibbled  a  little  fruit, 
she  rose  slowly,  took  several  turns  round  the  room, 
gave  mysteriously  an  order  to  the  servant-maid  who, 
an  instant  later,  brought  me  all  my  smoker's  appa- 
ratus,—  an  attention  that  was  as  delicate  as  unusual, — 


M  A  R  K  0  F  .  445 

and  ended  by  sitting  down  in  her  place  again,  opposite 
to  me. 

"  I  smoked  in  silence ;  she  stifled  a  little  sigh  of  im- 
patience from  time  to  time ;  at*  length,  seeing  that  I 
was  as  mute  as  a  granite  sphinx,  she  said  to  me  with 
the  voice  of  an  enchantress : 

"4 Tell  me  a  story!' 

"And  since  that  time,  my  friends,  I  tell  her  stories  — 
all  day  long !  She  accompanies  me  in  all  my  walks, 
prepares  my  cigarettes  for  me,  questions  me  a  great 
deal,  answers  me  as  little  as  possible,  and  evidently  con- 
siders me  in  the  new  light  of  a  portable  encyclopedia, 
'easy  to  consult  in  travels,'  as  the  prospectus  of  an 
encyclopedia  in  two  volumes  says,  in  which  one  never 
finds  what  one  looks  for.  This  role  of  Larousse's  Dic- 
tionary is  charming  and  perilous.  Mouza  is  extraordi- 
narily pretty,  almost  prettier  than  she  is  uncivilized; 
and  she  does  not  suspect  it ;  she  seems  as  though  she 
had  the  sort  of  friendship  for  me  that  one  has  for  an 
old  horse  to  whom  its  rest  has  been  given ;  and  I  evi- 
dently was  not  born  for  this  r61e  of  tutor  to  young 
ladies,  and  I  know  no  longer  what  to  do.  Yesterday,  I 
spoke  of  taking  a  journey  to  Moscow,  to  go  after  all 
my  violins  that  were  begun  and  remain  unfinished; 
she  began  by  being  sulky  with  me,  and  at  night  I  saw 
that  she  had  been  crying. 

"  My  friends,  my  dear  friends,  come  and  take  me  out 
of  this,  and  since  your  ladies  are  sweet  and  compas- 
sionate, implore  them  to  come  with  you,  so  as  to  try 
and  take  Mouza  away  to  some  boarding-school,  no 
matter  where.  This  life  is  no  longer  bearable,  and  I 


446  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

am  a  great  fool  not  to  have  understood  from  the  begin- 
ning what  would  inevitably  happen.  Answer  me  by 
return  mail  with  some  advice,  while  awaiting  your 
coming,  which  would  be  better  than  all  the  rest. 

"  Your  much  perplexed  friend, 

ANDRE  LADOF." 

De*miane  was  alone  when  this  letter  reached  Piati- 
gorsk;  he  read  and  re-read  it  two  or  three  times 
attentively,  and  then  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
drawing-room.  Hel£ne  had  gone  out  with  her  mother 
to  make  some  purchases,  and  Victor  was  busily  occupy- 
ing himself  with  preparations  for  their  departure. 

After  a  few  seconds  of  reflection,  he  sat  down  at  his 
desk,  and  wrote  on  a  sheet  of  paper : 

"If  you  wish  to  be  happy  and  without  reproach, 
marry  her.  Your  friend,  —  DEMIANE." 

After  which  he  sealed  the  letter  and  continued  his 
walk. 

The  Prince's  death  had  delayed  their  plan  for  an 
immediate  departure.  Raben,  who  had  gone  to  an- 
nounce it  to  the  young  artist  on  the  day  that  it 
occurred,  had  advised  him  to  wait  for  a  few  days. 

"  You  have  been  well  received  at  the  house,"  said 
the  diplomatist  kindly ;  "  the  Prince  showed  you  a 
great  deal  of  friendship,  it  is  proper  that  you  should 
attend  the  funeral  services  which  will  take  place  here 
before  the  transportation  of  that  poor  friend's  remains 
to  the  chapel  where  all  the  members  of  his  family 
repose,  on  his  estate  in  the  neighborhood  of  Moscow ." 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  447 

It  was  thus,  that  in  memory  of  the  Prince's  friend- 
ship for  him — it  needed  Raben  to  invent  that  friend- 
ship—  Demiane  had  written  his  name  in  the  book  at 
the  Princess',  and  had  been  present  at  the  customary 
prayers  in  the  drawing-room,  which  was  hung  in  black 
and  transformed  into  a  chapelle  ardente.  He  had  seen 
there,  during  these  prayers,  which  lasted  for  hours, 
Cleopatre,  more  beautiful  than  ever  in  her  long  crape 
veil,  bow  and  prostrate  herself  with  all  the  dignity  of 
a  widow  who  has  fulfilled  her  duty  to  the  end. 

That  night  of  anguish  had  changed  her;  her  com- 
plexion had  grown  dark,  her  eyes  had  become  sunken, 
her  sculptural  beauty  seemed  refined  by  grief.  Those 
who  surrounded  her  were  astonished  at  the  havoc 
which  a  loss  that  was  of  such  little  importance  in  every- 
body's eyes,  had  caused ;  the  Prince  was  not  interest- 
ing enough  to  occasion  so  many  regrets,  and  if  Cle'o- 
patre  had  not  maintained  so  irreproachable  a  manner 
that  no  one  could  accuse  her  of  making  a  parade  of  her 
despair,  they  would  perhaps  have  considered  her  as  an 
unskilful  actress.  But  she  did  not  speak  of  her  loss ; 
and  her  haughty  coldness  did  not  permit  either  allu- 
sions to  or  consolations  about  it,  and  what  she  felt 
inwardly  remained  a  secret  to  herself  alone. 

She  was  "struck,"  as  old  women  say;  the  death  of 
her  fetish  coinciding  with  Ddmiane's  rebellion  had 
seemed  to  her  a  decree  of  fate.  Without  asking  her- 
self why  she  had  deserved  to  be  punished  more  this 
time  than  so  many  others,  she  had  bowed  her  head, 
accepting  this  chance  as  a  chastisement;  and  for  her 
proud  nature  nothing  was  more  terrible  than  to  submit. 


448  MARKOF. 

She  saw  Demiane,  and  bowed  to  him,  as  to  the  others, 
without  speaking  to  him.  She  spoke  to  no  one  except 
Raben,  who  had  taken  charge  very  naturally  of  the 
material  part  of  the  troubles  which  follow  such  events. 
Demiane,  as  he  bowed  before  this  widow  of  the  day 
before,  felt  nothing  tremble  within  him  of  that  which 
had  formerly  made  him  beside  himself.  She  was  pun- 
ished by  himself  and  by  fate ;  he  was  satisfied,  and 
even  he  had  pardoned  her.  Now  he  was  sure  of  never 
having  loved  her,  for  one  does  not  cure  oneself  thus  of 
a  true  love  that  has  been  wounded. 

Once  only,  he  was  disturbed  by  a  passing  emotion. 
The  day  that  was  designated  for  the  removal  of  the 
body  a  magnificent  service  took  place  in  the  church ; 
he  attended  it,  with  all  the  town,  and  behind  him,  just 
when  Raben  was  giving  his  orders  to  the  pall-bearers, 
ne  heard  these  words  : 

"  The  Count  gives  himself  a  great  deal  of  trouble." 

"  Why  not  ?  It  is  natural  enough,  when  one  wants 
to  move  into  a  house,  to  help  move  out  of  it  those  who 
give  up  the  place." 

"  Then  she  will  marry  him  ?  " 

"  Of  course !  They  have  said  so  for  ten  years  at 
Moscow  and  even  at  the  Court.  They  will  make  him 
an  ambassador." 

Demiane  had  trembled  at  the  thought  of  seeing 
Raben  take  the  place  which  he  had  occupied  himself 
such  a  short  time  before ;  and  then  the  thought  that  it 
was  not  his  place,  but  that  of  the  Prince  which  the 
future  ambassador  would  take,  made  him  shrug  his 
shoulders  with  a  smile  of  pity. 

A  week  had  scarcely  passed  since  these  events,  and 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  449 

the  Princess  had  left,  accompanying  her  husband's 
body.  If  the  authorities  could  have  allowed  her  to 
carry  it  about  with  her  during  the  remainder  of  her 
days,  she  would  have  done  so  with  joy,  so  as  not  to  be 
separated  from  what  remained  to  her  of  her  talisman. 
This  woman,  who  was  afraid  of  nothing,  had  an  un- 
healthy dread  of  what  would  happen  to  her  when  the 
sepulchral  slab  would  be  sealed  over  her  husband's  body ! 
Raben  had  remained,  in  order  not  to  make  evident  a 
haste  that  would  be  in  bad  taste,  but  he  was  going  to 
leave  Piatigorsk,  and  would  arrive  at  Mpscow  at  the 
same  time  with  the  Princess,  who  was  travelling  by 
short  stages.  Our  friends,  whom  nothing  detained, 
had  lost  some  time,  thanks  to  Madame  Mianof 's  want 
of  energy,  and  they  were  only  to  leave  that  town  the 
next  day. 

Demiane,  while  thinking  of  Ladof  s  letter,  recalled 
many  different  emotions,  and  with  them  the  life  he 
had  led  with  his  friends.  Would  Andre  do  as  he  had 
nearly  done  himself!  Would  he  pass  near  happiness 
without  knowing  it,  preoccupied  as  he  was  with  other 
dreams  and  other  fancies  ?  This  young  girl  about  whom 
he  spoke  was  imperfect  without  doubt,  wild  and  fan- 
tastic, but  she  was  good  and  tender  to  the  weak  and  to 
the  young ;  she  was  intelligent ;  what  could  not  one  do 
with  a  child  of  sixteen  who  was  endowed  with  so  many 
good  qualities  together  with  her  faults  ?  Faults  ?  What 
did  those  matter  ?  Demiane  also  had  his  faults,  he 
recognized  them  now;  he  found  more  in  himself  than 
he  really  had;  and  did  he  not  hope,  however,  that 
Hclcne  would  one  day  accept  him  from  pity. 
28 


450  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

As  a  conclusion  to  these  meditations,  he  took  the 
letter  and  carried  it  to  the  post.  On  returning  he  heard 
Victor's  voice,  who  was  saying  to  the  ladies : 

"  To-morrow,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"  So  soon  ?  "  said  Helene,  with  a  little  regret. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  remain  longer  ?  " 

"  No,  oh,  no !  But  we  are  going  to  leave  Madame 
Moutine,  and  that  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  sorrow." 

De'miane  did  not  hear  his  brother's  answer,  for  it  was 
whispered  in  H^lene's  ear,  for  whom  alone  it  was  in- 
tended. 

"And  I  also;  it  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  sorrow, — 
more  than  you  believe,  perhaps ;  but  I  have  a  consola- 
tion, which  is  that  I  take  you  with  me." 

She  smiled  and  looked  at  Victor,  doubtfully. 

"So  much  sorrow  as  that?"  said  she.  "I  did  not 
know  that  you  were  such  a  great  friend  of  Madame 
Moutine's;  she  is  kind  to  all,  but — " 

Victor  hesitated  for  an  instant,  then  a  thought  of 
sacrifice  arose  in  his  heart  and  he  decided  suddenly  to 
put  an  impassable  barrier  between  Helene  and  him- 
self. They  were  alone,  for  Demiane  was  talking  with 
Madame  Mianof  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway. 

"At  the  risk  of  appearing  ridiculous  to  you,"  said 
he,  "  I  am  going  to  confide  to  you  the  secret  of  my  life ; 
a  poor  hunchback  can  also  love,  provided  he  keeps  his 
love  to  himself  alone;  Madame  Moutine,  long  before 
her  marriage,  was  the  star  of  my  life,  and  she  will 
always  remain  the  ideal  of  woman  to  me.  I  loved  you 
at  once,  my  sister  Helene,  because  you  resemble  her— 
and  now  forgive  me  for  having  had  the  folly  of  loving 
and  the  vanity  of  telling  you  so." 


MARKOF.  451 

HelSne  held  out  her  hand  to  Victor  with  a  mixture  of 
compassion  and  tenderness.  In  spite  of  the  charity  of 
her  nature,  she  could  not  help  thinking  that,  in  truth, 
to  love  was  folly,  when  one  had  so  little  chance  of 
making  oneself  loved;  but  she  did  not  express  her 
thought.  Victor,  who  was  happy  at  the  subterfuge 
which  would  shelter  from  all  suspicion  the  entire  de- 
votion which  he  might  henceforth  give  his  "sister 
He'ldne,"  felt  the  bitterness  at  the  same  time  that  he 
felt  the  sweetness  of  the  sacrifice;  but  he  had  done 
right  and  did  not  wish  to  repent  of  it. 


452  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

CHAPTER   LI. 

THE    LITTLE     WILD     GIRL. 

LADOF  was  awaiting  his  friends  on  the  threshold  of 
his  latticed  doorway.  His  domain  was  not  osten- 
tatious, but  he  possessed  what  is  worth  more  than 
worldly  luxury,  fat  cows  and  fine  sheep.  Buried  up  to 
his  knees  in  the  grass  of  the  steppe,  he  was  looking  at 
the  road  impatiently;  the  shadows  of  his  trees  were 
already  lengthening  on  the  ground,  and  he  feared  to  see 
the  day  pass  by  without  bringing  him  his  friends. 
Mouza,  who  had  become,  not  more  wild  but  timid,  had 
approached  several  times  to  scan  the  road  as  he  was 
doing,  but  she  had  hastily  withdrawn  every  time  that 
he  had  wished  to  retain  her. 

Mouza  was  much  afraid  of  the  ladies  who  were  going 
to  arrive,  and  still  she  had  a  great  desire  to  know  them. 
What  could  ladies  be  like  who  went  into  society  and 
who  played  the  piano  ?  She  almost  regretted  to  have 
her  solitude  disturbed,  which  for  some  weeks  she  had 
willingly  shared  with  Andre*;  however,  her  natural 
curiosity  drew  her  to  these  unknown  beings  who  were 
going  to  give  her  a  little  glimpse  of  the  world. 

In  her  odd  little  brain,  a  great  work  had  been  going 
on  by  degrees.  The  stories  which  Andr£  told  her,  and 
some  books  which  he  had  made  her  read,  had  informed 
her  of  the  existence  of  a  society  in  which  the  habits  of 
the  steppe  were  not  in  usage.  She  understood  the 


MARKOF.  453 

strangeness  of  her  behaviour ;  and  she  realized  Ladof  s 
rights  over  this  house  which  until  then,  she  had  con- 
sidered as  her  own,  in  spite  of  all  the  arguments  used 
to  convince  her  of  the  truth.  With  the  conviction  that 
she  was  not  in  her  own  home,  and  that  consequently 
she  was  enjoying  the  young  heir's  hospitality,  shame 
had  entered  her  mind  at  having  acted  as  she  had  done ; 
all  this  was  very  vague,  and  in  the  state  of  a  sensation 
and  not  of  reasoning.  But  these  new  meditations  had 
made  her  timid ;  and  with  timidity,  modesty  had  enter- 
ed her  soul ;  the  story  of  Bela  had  revealed  to  her  what 
is  called  love,  and  she  had  perceived  that  Ladof  held 
henceforth  the  first  place  in  her  life,  since  her  old  father 
slept  under  the  graveyard  trees  a  few  verstes  away. 
Thus  ripened  suddenly,  Mouza  had  formed  a  great 
resolve,  which  she  could  not  execute  alone,  and  for 
which  she  hoped  some  aid  from  those  who  were 
coming. 

A  ray  of  red  sunlight  shone  on  a  little  cloud  of  dust 
on  the  road. 

"  There  they  are ! "  exclaimed  Ladof  turning  towards 
his  little  friend. 

The  latter  had  disappeared.  The  cloud  of  dust 
approached  quickly,  for  Russian  postillions  make  it  a 
point  of  honor  to  arrive  at  galoping  speed.  The  two 
tarantass  that  were  carrying  the  artists  and  their 
renown  stopped  before  the  brick  house,  and  Andre* 
found  himself  clasped  in  his  friend's  arms  before  he 
had  time  to  offer  the  ladies  his  hand. 

When  Helene  and  her  mother  reached  the  ground, 
which  was  the  easiest  of  operations  for  the  young  girl, 


454  M  A  R  K  O  F  . 

but  which  was  not  without  danger  for  Madame  Mianof, 
they  all  looked  at  each  other  a  little  astounded ;  then, 
after  the  necessary  presentations,  they  went  towards 
the  dining-room. 

To  Andrews  inexpressible  surprise,  Mouza  was  stand- 
ing near  the  samovar,  before  a  table  covered  wi£h  white 
linen  and  furnished  with  a  very  appetizing  collation. 
The  good  fellow  had  given  some  orders  to  the  maid, 
but  he  was  far  from  expecting  that  his  little  savage 
would  do  so  much  herself;  he  thanked  her  for  it  by 
the  most  gracious  smile,  which  she  accepted  as  her  due 
with  a  great  deal  of  dignity,  and  a  blush  which  made 
her  charming.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  she  answered 
Hel&ie,  in  monosyllables,  it  is  true,  but  with  a  timid 
grace  which  at  once  won  for  her  the  young  artist's 
heart. 

The  next  morning,  very  early,  Demiane  and  Victor 
went  to  find  Andre*,  who  was  walking  in  one  of  the 
pathways  of  his  kitchen-garden  with  his  hands  behind 
his  back. 

"Well?"  said  De*miane,  "has  my  letter  brought 
forth  fruit?" 

"  What  does  the  grave  Victor  say  about  this  absurd 
plan?" 

"  I  say  that  my  brother  is  right ;  "  I  would  never 
perhaps,  have  thought  of  this  ending,  but  I  approve  it ; 
It  was  D6miane's  part  to  find  it ;  he  had  a  particular 
grace  for  it!" 

"  Eh ! "  said  Ladof  passing  his  arm  familiarly  in  that 
of  the  young  violinist ;  "  grace  !  What  grace,  and  in 
what  particular  ?  " 


MARKOF.  455 

"  Nothing,"  murmured  De'miane  who  was  much  em- 
barrassed, "  it  is  nothing  at  all,  Victor  is  joking.  Then, 
you  are  going  to  get  married  ?  When  ?  " 

"  When  Mouza  wishes." 

"Have  you  spoken  to  her  about  it?" 

It  was  Andrews  turn  to  appear  confused.  He  hesi- 
tated, wished  to  speak  two  or  three  times,  but  could 
not  find  any  words,  and  ended  by  laughing. 

"What  an  idiot  I  am,"  said  he  plucking  up  his 
courage  ;  "  no,  I  have  not  spoken  to  her  about  it." 

"Why?" 

"  Don't  I  tell  you  that  I  am  an  idiot  ?  I  am  afraid 
she  will  refuse." 

Our  friends  looked  at  each  other  anxiously.  That 
was  true,  suppose  she  should  refuse  ? 

"  Would  you  like  He*lene  to  speak  to  her  about  it?  " 
Victor  suddenly  suggested,  his  face  radiant  with  delight 
at  the  thought  of  such  an  excellent  plan. 

"  Indeed  I  would  !  "  exclaimed  Ladof ;  "  that  is  a 
capital  idea!  Your  H£l£ne  is  charming!  And  you, 
De'miane,  why  do  you  not  marry  her?  She  is  just  the 
woman  that  you  need !  She  seems  to  be  as  sensible  as 
you  are  far  from  being  —  eh  ?  " 

This  time  it  was  De'miane  who  put  on  a  foolish  look. 

"  Are  you  also  afraid  that  she  will  refuse  you  ?  "  con- 
tinued Andre*,  without  meaning  any  harm. 

De'miane  had  no  desire  to  laugh  nor  had  Victor,  and 
yet  they  all  three  burst  out  laughing  together  at  the 
same  time  at  the  sight  of  each  other's  expression. 

"  She  has  refused  you  !  "  said  Andre,  with  the  tone 
of  a  doctor;  "it  is  written  on  your  red  ears,  my  friend 
Ddniiane !  Don't  bear  me  any  spite  and  try  not  to 


456  M  A  R  K  0  F  . 

make  me  lodge  at  the  same  inn  !  You  are  not  vindic- 
tive ?  No  ?  So  much  the  better  then !  Help  me  and 
I  will  help  yon,  which  is  the  motto  of  a  prudent  man 
and  of  societies  for  mutual  assistance  !  " 

A  few  hours  later,  Helene,  who  was  much  troubled 
by  the  mission  she  had  accepted,  joined  Mouza  under 
the  hop-vine  arbor  where  she  had  wept  so  many  tears 
over  Lermentof's  novel.  The  little  wild  girl  smiled  as 
she  saw  her  approach ;  she  kept  herself  apart  from  the 
new-comers  through  timidity,  but  she  was  very  glad 
to  find  herself  sought  after.  She  made  a  place  for 
Helene  on  the  small  worm-eaten  bench,  and  they  both, 
remained  silent  for  a  moment.  It  was  the  young  mu- 
sician who  broke  the  silence. 

"  It  is  pretty  here,"  said  she  in  her  tuneful  voice. 

"  Is  it  not  ?  "  exclaimed  Mouza,  who  wras  glad  to  be 
able  to  be  enthusiastic  quite  at  her  ease. 

"  One  ought  to  live  happily  here,"  continued  Helene. 
"  You  are  happy  here,  are  you  not  ?  " 

Mouza,  who  was  suddenly  perplexed,  became  sad 
and  disquieted.  She  knew  nothing  about  the  art  of 
managing  transitions ;  that  was  why,  after  a  moment 
of  hesitation,  she  uttered  the  following  words,  which 
were  well  calculated  to  excite  surprise : 

"  Will  you  take  me  away  with  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  away  ?  " 

"  I  must !  I  ought  to  have  gone  when  he  came  — 
but  I  did  not  know  it !  I  do  not  wish  to  go  to  the  law- 
yer's, I  detest  him.  I  would  like  to  go  with  you." 

"Where?" 

"  I  do  not  know ! "  said  Mouza,  with  a  sigh.  "  Where 
does  one  go  when  one  cannot  remain  any  longer  at 


M  A  R  K  O  F  .  457 

home  ?  That  is  to  say,  not  in  my  home,  since  this  house 
belongs  to  kirn,  but — " 

She  stopped.  It  was  very  difficult  for  a  mind  so 
little  given  to  the  solution  of  such  problems  to  express 
itself. 

Helene  seized  the  occcosion  which  presented  itself. 

"  He  does  not  wish  that  you  should  go  away,  Mouza," 
said  she,  caressing  the  brown  hand  of  the  little  undis- 
ciplined girl ;  "  he  wishes,  on  the  contrary,  that  you 
should  always  remain  here  —  he  would  like  that  this 
house  in  which  you  were  born  should  become  your  own, 
—  so  as  to  live  and  die  here  with  him." 

Mouza  looked  at  this  tranquil  person,  who  in  her 
sweet  voice  said  such  astonishing  things  to  her,  and 
saw  that  she  was  speaking  seriously. 

"  How  ?  "  said  she,  hesitating. 

"  There  is  only  one  way,  Mouza,  which  would  be  to 
take  the  house  with  its  owner.  Have  you  any  —  any 
friendship  for  Monsieur  Ladof?" 

The  young  girl  blushed  suddenly. 

"He  is  good,"  said  she,  with  vivacity;  "he  is  very 
good  and  very  obedient;  he  has  always  done  what  I 
told  him  to  do." 

If  Andr<j  had  heard  her  he  would  have  been  but 
slightly  flattered  at  the  compliment. 

"  Then  you  do  love  him  ?  " 

Mouza  did  not  reply. 

"  Would  you  like  to  pass  your  whole  life  with  him, 
or  else  leave  him  to  go  elsewhere,  as  you  said  a  moment 
ago?" 

"  He  is  good  I  "  repeated  the  ingenuous  girl,  without 
daring  to  raise  her  eyes. 


458  MARKOF. 

"  You  will  consent  to  marry  him,  will  you  not  ?  " 
"  To  marry  him?"  said  Mouza,  rising,  "does  he  wish 
to  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  What  were  you  thinking  of  then  ?  " 
The  poor  little  girl's  face  became  covered  with 
blushes.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  peasant  of  the 
steppe,  and  no  one  ever  really  knew  whether  her  father 
was  married  or  riot :  Mouza  had  heard  this  spoken  of, 
for  the  children  of  the  neighboring  village  had  not- 
spared  calling  her  names  in  their  youthful  quarrels, 
and  the  idea  of  marriage  was  to  her  a  sort  of  imagined 
but  unattainable  Eden. 

"  Will  you  marry  him  ?  "  continued  He*l&ne  with  her 
perfect  grace ;  "  and  be  to  him  a  good,  submissive  and 
devoted  wife  until  your  death,  and  aid  him  to  bear 
unhappy  days  and  rejoice  with  him  on  the  happy  ones  ? 
That  is  what  marriage  is,  it  is  devotion  on  both  sides, 
and  he  will  protect  and  will  love  you." 

"  He  has  already  protected  me,"  stammered  the  little 
girl  — "  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  In  the  kitchen-garden,  he  is  waiting  your  answer." 
Without  speaking  a  word,  Mouza  rose,  and  contrary 
to  her  habit,  she  walked  sedately  as  far  as  the  kitchen- 
garden  gate.  She  opened  the  little  door  and  entered 
the  pathway  courageously  where  Ladof  was  walking 
quite  alone,  ruminating  on  what  he  called  his  stupidity. 
At  the  sound  of  Mouza's  light  footsteps,  he  turned 
round ;  and  she  went  up  close  to  him  and  bowed  down 
before  him,  as  peasants  do. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  in  a  sullen  tone,  thinking 
that  she  had  not  seen  Helene,  or  that  some  freak  of  her 
capricious  mind  urged  her  to  a  childish  joke. 


MARKOF.  459 

"I  am  your  wife  and  your  servant,"  said  Mouza 
humbly,  who  felt  her  eyes  fill  with  tears. 

He  seized  her  in  his  arms  and  raised  her  from  the 
ground  with  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  Do  you  love  me  then?"  said  he  as  he  placed  her  on 
the  ground  again,  but  without  releasing  her  from  his 
embrace. 

"  I  do  not  know,  but  I  do  know  that  I  cannot  live 
apart  from  thee ;  I  wanted  to  go  away,  and  it  was  so 
hard!  I  think  I  never  could  have  done  so,  I  would 
have  come  back." 

He  looked  at  her  entranced,  with  a  gleam  of  merri- 
ment in  his  eyes. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  if  I  say  thee  to  thee,  does 
it  ?  "  continued  Mouza :  "  before  thou  didst  come  I  had 
never  said  you  to  any  one,  except  to  the  lawyer,  and  I 
do  not  know  whether  I  ever  spoke  a  word  to  him  since 
my  birth.  It  annoyed  me  very  much  to  say  you  to 
thee!" 

44  Do  not  annoy  thyself  any  longer,"  exclaimed  Ladof 
laughing  with  all  his  heart;  44 Paradise  is  opened,  we 
are  going  to  be  as  happy  as  the  little  birds  which  thou 
didst  forbid  my  shooting." 

The  joy  of  these  two  beings  soon  filled  all  the  house. 
It  was  arranged  that  the  wedding  should  take  place  the 
following  week,  and  that  our  friends  should  be  present, 
and  then  depart  the  same  day,  leaving  the  couple  to 
their  honey-moon. 


460  MARK  OF. 


CHAPTER    LII. 

THE    VICTORY    OF    HELENE. 

THE  atmosphere  of  this  house,  where  Ladof  was 
singing  all  day  long,  and  where  Ddmiane,  for 
want  of  a  piano  to  accompany  him,  improvised  for 
whole  hours  together,  confiding  to  his  violin  the  task 
of  expressing  all  that  his  disquieted  soul  felt,  was  as 
exciting  as  a  strong  perfume.  Madame  Mianof  had 
made  herself  a  little  Thebaid  in  her  room.  She  had 
drilled  the  servant-maid  to  bring  her  tea  four  or  five 
times  a  day,  and  she  passed  her  time  there  as  pleasantly 
as  anywhere  else,  between  games  of  patience  and  cigar- 
ettes. * 

Victor  devoted  himself  to  preparations  for  the  wed- 
ding, as  though  he  had  never  done  anything  else  all  his 
life.  With  a  hammer  in  his  hand,  and  nails  in  his 
pockets,  he  could  be  seen  perched  on  a  ladder,  arrang- 
ing and  disarranging,  putting  up  curtains  here,  de- 
molishing partitions  there,  and  'playing  his  part  of 
upholsterer  in  a  perfectly  serious  fashion.  Ladof  had 
profited  by  his  good  will  and  his  intelligence  to  execute 
a  thousand  little  alterations  in  the  house,  which,  would 
make  it  more  comfortable,  and  which  till  then  he  had 
not  had  the  courage  to  undertake. 

Demiane  seemed  desirous  of  regaining  the  time  he 
had  lost  at  Piatigorsk,  and  practised  on  his  violin  with 


MARKOF.  461 

a  persistence  that  was  worthy  of  all  praise.  He  spoke 
but  little  and  seemed  sad,  and  his  friends  clearly  saw 
that  he  was  overwhelmed  with  regret.  But  did  this 
regret  have  relation  to  Cle*opatre's  love,  which  had  been 
so  suddenly  lost,  or  to  the  precious  time  which  he  had 
spent  on  that  dream  ?  Did  he  regret  Cleopatre?  or  did 
he  reproach  himself  for  having  loved  her  ? 

Helene  alone  could  have  solved  this  question.  De'mi- 
ane's  new  humility,  and  affectionate  sadness,  she  felt 
was  remorse,  and  not  regret ;  but  she  took  good  care 
not  to  say  anything  about  it,  not  wishing  to  lose  by 
too  prompt  a  pardon  the  benefit  of  this  return  to 
better  feelings.  Moreover,  she  was  disquieted  herself ; 
not  that  she  had  any  fear  about  her  future  ;  she  knew 
she  possessed  a  talent  that  was  capable  of  supplying 
henceforth  all  her  wants  and  those  of  her  mother ;  but 
the  happiness  of  others  is  a  sorrowful  sight  to  those 
who  suffer,  and  sne  was  suffering.  All  the  jealousy 
which  she  had  forbidden  herself  to  feel  for  the  Princess 
when  the  latter  was  reigning  over  D£miane,  returned 
to  her  now  with  singular  bitterness ;  and  then  she 
feared  her  friend's  instability :  she  asked  herself  if  he 
would  love  her  long,  if  he  would  be  a  good  husband : 
if  aristocratic  beauties  would  not  regain  a  sovereign 
control  over  ^  this  ambitious  plebeian  ;  and  such  ques- 
tions did  not  bring  her  a  consoling  answer. 

The  day  before  the  wedding,  Mouza  went- to  find  her 
in  the  drawing-room  where,  all  alone,  seated  by  the 
window,  she  was  questioning  the  future  with  a  heart 
heavy  with  fear.  It  was  raining,  and  the  autumn  wind 
made  the  yellow  leaves  that  had  7  been  torn  from  the 


462  MARK  OF. 

poplars,  whirl  round  in  the  evening  air.  It  had  already 
grown  dark.  The  day  and  the  hour  were  sad,  but 
Mouza  knew  no  more  sadness.  She  sat  down  beside 
her  new  and  only  friend,  and  without  speaking  to  her 
she  took  her  hand  and  caressed  it  in  her  own  for  some 
time. 

"  I  wanted,"  said  she  timidly  at  length,  "  to  beg  you 
to  thank  your  great  friend  for  what  he  has  done  for 
me." 

"  Who  is  my  great  friend  ?  "  asked  Helene  surprised. 

"The  one  who  plays  the  violin  —  Demiane  —  he 
loves  you  more  than  all  the  others ;  he  loves  you  as 
much  as  I  love  Andre*." 

"  Who  told  you  so  ?  "  said  the  young  artist,  blushing. 

"  I  have  seen  it ;  I  am  wise  now !  I  have  learned 
many  things  since  last  spring.  Will  you  thank  him  for 
me  ?  I  am  ashamed  and  do  not  dare  to." 

"  I  will  thank  him,  willingly,"  said  Helene,  "  but  for 
what?" 

"  For  having  told  Andr£  that  he  ought  to  marry  me." 

"  Was  it  he  who  advised  Monsieur  Ladof  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Why  yes  !  did  you  not  know  it  ?  " 

No,  Helene  had  never  heard  anything  about  it;  it 
mattered  little  to  the  others  whether  the  idea  had  come 
from  Ladof  himself  or  from  another ;  but  to  her  alone 
this  fact  had  some  importance.  4 

"  I  will  thank  him,"  said  she,  pensively;  "he  has  done 
well,  it  was  from  a  good  heart." 

"  Was  it  not  ?  I  am  only  a  little  uncultivated  child, 
not  much  better  than  a  peasant ;  and  Andr£  is  a  lord ; 
but  when  people  love  each  other,  that  makes  no  longer 
any  difference.  Do  you  not  think  so  Helene?" 


MARK  OF.  463 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  latter,  passing  her  hand  over 
Mouza's  hair. 

"And  you,"  continued  the  young  betrothed  girl, 
"  why  do  you  not  marry  your  friend.  He  would  be 
very  happy,  any  one  can  see  that.  Do  you  not  love 
him?" 

"  Oh !  yes,"  said  He*l£ne,  who  was  agitated. 

"Well,  why  do  you  not  wish  to  see  him  happy? 
Look  at  Andre,  how  gay  he  is  since  we  have  come  to  an 
agreement !  Does  it  give  you  pleasure  then  to  see  him 
sad?" 

"  No,  oh !  no !  "  said  Hdlene,  bitterly. 

"  Is  he  not  rich  enough  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  that,  either." 

"  Then,  he  is  not  good  enough " 

"He  is  good,"  interrupted  Helene,  "but  to  marry 
one  must  be  something  else  besides  good." 

"  Why  ?  Just  see  how  bad  I  am  !  I  know  nothing, 
I  am  good  for  nothing,  I  have  tormented  Andre*  dread- 
fully, and  still  he  is  going  to  marry  me.  It  is  because 
he  loves  me;  but  you,  you  do  not  love  your  friend 
enough." 

Helene  hung  down  her  head.  What  a  singular 
Mentor  was  this  odd  and  ignorant  child.  However,  she 
was  right,  Andr6  was  going  to  marry  her  in  spite  of  her 
faults ;  why,  then,  did  she  wish  that  Ddmiane  should  be 
faultless  to  give  him  her  life  ?  Would  she  not  have  a 
thousand  times  more  influence  over  him  in  the  privacy 
of  domestic  life  ?  Had  she  not  taught  him  to  respect 
her  henceforth,  to  consult  her  in  everything  ?  Was  it 
not  he  who  had  need  of  her,  when  she  could  live  away 


464  MARKOF. 

from  him?  Away  from  him!  Without  doubt  she 
could  do  it,  but  at  the  cost  of  what  bitter  pain ! 

A  noise  of  footsteps  was  heard  in  the  next  room. 

"There  he  is,"  said  Mouza,  "I  am  going  to  run 
away;  tell  him  what  you  promised  me?" 

She  slipped  out  of  the  room,  passed  Ddmiane  on  the 
threshold,  gave  him  a  smile  and  disappeared. 

Demiane  did  not  expect  to  find  HdlSne  alone ;  he  was 
bewildered  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  sat  down  on 
the  chair  which  Mouza  had  just  left.  Since  the  morn- 
ing interview  at  Piatigorsk,  they  had  not  been  alone 
together  before.  He  thought  of  it,  and  she  also,  for 
she  turned  her  face  away  and  looked  at  the  window, 
where  the  water  was  streaming  down  the  panes. 

"We  leave  to-morrow,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a 
constrained  voice ;  "  we  will  not  see  each  other  again 
quite  alone,  Helene,  let  us  speak  frankly  to  each  other, 

She  made  a  little  sign  with  her  head,  indicating  that 
she  consented  to  it. 

"  You  are  coming  to  Moscow  with  us ;  and  then  what 
do  you  intend  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know !  "  said  she,  despondingly. 

The  thought  of  the  separation  took  all  her  energy 
from  her. 

"  Would  you  like  to  remain  at  Moscow  and  try  to 
make  yourself  a  name  there  ?  I  will  aid  you  with  all 
my  power.  But,  dear  Helene,  have  you  thought  of  the 
danger  there  would  be  in  two  young  persons  such  as 
you  and  myself  helping  each  other  mutually?  Have 
you  considered  what  the  world  would  say  at  seeing  us 
always  together  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  amazed  that  of  himself  he  should 


MARKOF.  465 

have  thought  of  all  that.  He  had  been  occupying  him- 
self a  great  deal  about  her,  then!  The  egotism  of 
which  she  had  often  reproached  him  must  have  given 
place  to  more  generous  preoccupations. 

"  I  will  do  whatever  you  command,  Helene,"  con- 
tinued Demiane.  "If  you  would  like  me  to  speak 
about  you  to  Monsieur  Roussof,  he  can  begin  again  for 
you  among  his  friends,  what  he  has  already  done  for  me , 
and  I  will  go  somewhere  else,  wherever  you  will  tell 
me  to  go,  so  as  not  to  do  you  any  harm ;  only  you  will 
permit  me  to  write  to  you,  will  you  not  ?  " 

Helene  did  not  reply  immediately. 

uMouza  asked  me  to  thank  you,"  she  said  after  a 
silence ;  "  she  says  that  you  have  given  proof  of  great 
kindness  in  advising  Ladof  to  marry  her.  I  think  as 
she  does,  Demiane,  and  I  say  also  that  you  are  good." 

"  Good  !  oh,  no !  "  said  the  young  man  sadly.  "  For 
three  weeks,  I  have  been  weighing  what  I  am  worth, 
and  I  am  not  worth  much !  I  have  weighed  also  my 
conduct  towards  you,  Helene,  and  I  have  found  myself 
very  culpable.  When  I  disposed  of  you  in  such  an  in- 
solent manner  at  the  villa,  you  know  ?  I  was  mad ! 
simply  mad  !  And  you  have  been  very  generous  not  to 
throw  my  madness  in  my  face  !  It  is  since  then  that  I 
have  understood  my  stupidity  and  my  pride.  You  did 
well  to  refuse  me,  Helene,  I  am  not  worthy  of  you. 
Shall  I  be  some  day  ?  I  want  to  be  !  Oh,  yes,  I  want 
to  be  !  But  can  I  ?  " 

He  sighed  deeply,  and  his  sigh  came  from  the  most 
sacred  part  of  his  being,  that  part  which  weeps  over 
our  faults  when  we  have  returned  to  reason. 
29 


4G6  MARK  OF. 

"  One  can  do  all  one  wills  ! "  said  Helene.  "  But 
one  must  have  the  will." 

"  I  will  it  with  all  my  heart !  "  replied  De'miane,  with 
force.  "  But  alone  and  without  any  advice  —  you  will 
write  to  me  ?  " 

"  We  will  remain  together,"  said  the  young  girl, 
softly.  The  increasing  darkness  gave  her  courage. 

"  And  the  danger  of  which  I  spoke  just  now,  and 
the  rumor  of  our  engagement,  and  the  wrong  that  I 
have  so  foolishly  done  you,  and  which  nothing  can  re- 
pair ?  Ah !  if  you  loved  me,  if  you  would  only  love 
me!" 

"  I  told  you  that  I  do  love  you,"  murmured  Hdlene. 

"  Then,  you  —  it  is  not  possible  !  Say  it  to  me  that 
I  may  hear  it :  you  do  consent  ?  " 

"  I  consent,"  said  the  young  girl  with  a  voice  that 
had  grown  firmer.  "  But,  listen  to  me,  De'miane.  I 
can  forgive  you  everything  so  long  as  you  do  not  lie.  I 
could  forgive  you  even  for  failing  in  your  sworn  faith 
to  me,  which,  God  forbid,  should  ever  be !  But  you 
are  weak.  Only,  what  I  would  never  forgive  would  be 
a  word  of  contempt  to  me  or  a  disdainful  action !  I 
may  be  wrong,  I  may  do  wrong,  but  I  have  a  soul  that 
is  as  noble  as  your  own,  and  in  becoming  your  wife  I 
remain  your  equal.  Let  us  each  be  indulgent  to  the 
other,  dear.  We  are  so  weak  in  the  face  of  evil ! " 

He  knelt  down  before  her,  and  it  was  on  his  bowed 
head  that  she  herself  put  the  kiss  of  betrothal. 

The  next  day,  at  the  same  hour,  our  friends  took 
leave  of  the  new  couple  who  had  been  united  in  mar- 
riage that  morning.  They  left  the  happy  little  house 


MARK  OF.  467 

that  was  going  to  shelter  so  much  joy,  with  a  feeling 
of  regret  that  was  sweetened  by  hope.  Andre*  prom- 
ised to  go  and  pass  the  winter  in  Moscow.  It.  was  at 
some  hundreds  of  verstes  from  there  that  Madame 
Mianof  first  heard  of  her  daughter's  future  destiny. 
This  prospect  filled  her  with  perfect  happiness,  and  for 
a  long  time  all  her  games  of  patience  were  devoted  to 
solving  a  wise  problem :  must  Helene's  wedding  dress 
be  of  white  silk  or  tarltane  ? 

"  Not  white  silk,"  said  De*miane,  with  a  slight  shiver, 
who  was  finally  consulted  about  it  •,  "  I  have  a  horror 
of  white  silk  ;  anything  you  please,  except  that." 

Six  months  after  their  marriage  the  couple  went  to 
make  a  visit  to  Demiane's  father,  and  passed  through 

M .  The  archimandrite  had  grown  old  very  fast, 

but  it  seemed  as  though  he  would  fade  away  rather 
than  die.  He  became  very  fond  of  little  Helene,  and 
confided  to  her  when  she  was  leaving  him,  a  secret 
which  he  had  kept  all  his  life :  it  was  a  roll  of  sacred 
chants  of  which  he  had  composed  the  music. 

"  When  I  am  dead,"  said  he  to  his  little  friend,  "you 
will  play  them.  You  will  have  them  sung  if  you  can ; 
but  only  when  I  shall  have  returned  to  earth ;  I  do  not 
wish  to  give  myself  vain  thoughts  of  pride ;  perhaps 
after  my  death  the  good  Lord  will  forgive  me  them 
easier." 

His  wish  was  too  soon  answered,  for  the  following 
winter  he  died  quietly,  without  a  pain  or  struggle  ;  his 
chants,  which  were  given  to  the  public  under  a  bor- 
rowed name,  have  now  obtained  a  wonderful  success. 
The  good  man  was  a  great  musician. 


468  MARK  OF. 

The  Princess  married  Raben :  they  alwa}rs  live  in 
foreign  lands.  Since  her  new  marriage  Cleopatre  has 
changed  her  mode  of  life.  It  was  not  because  her  for- 
mer one  displeased  her;  but  she  is  afraid  —  horribly 
afraid  of  succumbing  to  some  frightful  catastrophe  if 
she  should  step  aside  from  virtue ;  since  she  has  lost 
her  fetish,  she  has  become  pious. 

It  is  not  rare  in  the  domain  of  art  to  see  a  husband 
and  wife  who  are  united  in  their  hearts  and  minds, 
attain,  one  through  the  other,  a  great  renown.  This 
destiny  has  been  that  of  Ddmianc  and  Helene  :  fortune 
and  glory  have  come  to  them  at  the  same  time.  Victor 
teaches  their  children  and  is  perfectly  happy. 


THE    END. 


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Dournof.     A  Russian  Story.    By  Henry  Grevill?.,  author  of  "Saveli's  Expiation,** 
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was  written  in  Russia  during  Madame  Greville's  residence  in  St.  Peters- 
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Bomie-Haric.     A  Tale  of  Normandy  and   Paris.     By  Henry  Grtville,  author  of 
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Saveli's  Expiation.     By  Henry   Grerille.     A  dramatic  and  powerful  novel,  and 

a  pure  love  story.     Translated  from  the  French,  by  Mai  y  Real  Slnn~ionod. 
"  S.'.v£u's  EXPIATION  "  is  one  of  the  most  dramatic  and  most  powerful  novels  ever  pub- 
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Gabrielle;  or,  The  -House  of  Maureze.      Translated  fmm  the  French  of 

henry  Gitcillf,  who  is  the  most  popular  writer  in  Europe  at  the  present  time. 
"GABKIKLLE;  OR,  Taw  HOUSE  OF    MAURKZE,"  is  a  very  thrilling  and  touching  story, 
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A  JJHencl;   or,  I/  Ami.     \StoryofEvery-Day  Life.     By  Henry  CreriUe,  autluf 
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This  tender  and  touching  picture  of  French  home-life  will  touch  many  hearts,  as  it  shows 
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Pretty   Little   Countess    Zina.      By    Henry    Grfriilt,   author  of  "Dosia," 

"Saveli's  Expiation,"  "A  Friend,"  etc.      Translated  by  Mary  A'-al  Sherwood.. 
Zina,  the  Countess,  bears  a  certain  resemblance  to  Dosia  —  that  bewitching  creature—  in 
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Philoillf'He's  Marriages.      From  the  French   of  "Ze.«  Mariiigfx  tit  rhilomcne." 

By  Henry  Greville,  author  of  "  Dosia,''  '•  Saveli's  Expiation,''  "Galiielle,"  etc. 
The  American  edition  of  "  PHILOMKSE'S  MARRIAGES,"  contains  a  Preface  written  1  y 
Henry  Greville,  addressed  to  her  American  Readers,  which  is  not  in  the  French  edition. 
Translated  in  Paris,  from  Henry  GrCi-illt's  manuscript,  by  Miss  Helen  Stanley. 

Marrying  Off  a  Daughter.     By  Henry   Gn'rillr,  author  of  "Dosia,"  "Saveli'g 

Expiation,"  "Gabrielle,"  "  A  Friend,"  etc.      Translated  by  Alary  Xeal  Slierwood. 
"MARRYING  OFF  A  DAVGHTER"  is  gay,  sparkling,  and  pervaded  by  a  delicious  tone  of 
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1,'Assommofr.    A  Novel.    By  fimile  Z»fr,  the  great  French  novelist.    Over  One 

Hundred  Thousand  Copies  have  already  been  sold  in  France  of  "  L'Assommoir." 
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and  pictorial.  In  it,  vice  is  never  made  attractive,  but  '•  Zola"  paints  it  in  all  its  hideous 
reality,  so  that  it  may  tend  to  a  moral  end,  for  in  it  he  unquestionably  calls  "a  spade  a 
spade'"  As  a  pictureof  woe  and  degradation  springing  from  drunkenness,  "  L'Assommoir" 
is  without  a  rival.  Zola  has  attained  a  measure  of  success  scarcely  paralleled  in  our 
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the  widest  attention  and  the  liveliest  discussions  throughout  the  whole  of  Europe.  Tho 
translator,  John  Stirling,  has  done  his  work  in  the  most  able  and  satisfactory  manner, 
with  great  tact,  delicacy  and  refinement.  Complete  in  one  large  square  duodecimo  vol- 
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The  Abba's  Temptation ;   or,  La  Faitte  de  L'Abb€  Mouret.    A 

Love  Story.  By  fimile  Zola,  author  of  "  L'Assommoir,"  "  Helene,"  etc. 
"  THE  ABB£'S  TEMPTATIOX,"  by  £mile  Zola,  writes  one  of  the  most  noted  literary 
editors  in  New  York,  to  John  Stirling,  the  translator,  "is  the  sweetest  love  story  I  ever 
read,  and  is  a  great  book,  for  there  is  much  in  the  work  that  is  lovely  and  pathetic.  It  is 
a  work  of  marvellous  ability,  not  immoral  in  any  sense,  while  it  teaches  a  great  lesson. 
The  Abbe  Mouret,  brother  of  Helene,  who  serves  to  point  the  moral  in  Zola's  previous 
work,  entitled,  'Helene;  or,  Une  Page  D'Amonr,'  is  the  Cure  of  a  poor  village  whose  in- 
habitants are  steeped  in  all  the  degradation  of  peasant  life.  In  the  Abbe  is  deveb  ped  the 
devotional  spirit  of  his  mother.  Innocent  of  all  guile,  uncomfortable  and  blushing  at 
the  confessions  of  his  female  parishioners,  devoted  to  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  he, 
with  his  half-witted  sister,  lives  a  life  of  purity  and  happiness,  until  his  mind  is  unbal- 
anced by  the  constant  strain  on  both  mind  and  body,  caused  by  his  incessant  vigils.  To 
save  his  life,  his  uncle,  Dr.  Pascal,  tikes  him  to  a  deserted  villa,  and  confides  him  to  the 
care  of  a  half-wild  niece  of  the  man  in  charge.  Gradually  his  reason  is  restored  ;  am 
with  returning  reason  comes  health,  strength  and  love.  As  Zola  depicts  the  innocent 
love  and  purity  of  the  unhappy  Abbe,  one  can  scarce  believe  that  he,  who  wrote' L'Assom- 
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Hole  no  ;  or,  line  Page  D'  Amour.    By  £mile  Zola,  author  of  "  L'Assommoir,* 

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"£MILE  ZOLA"  is  the  greatest  author »in  France  at  the  present  day.  His  novel, 
"  L'Assommoir,"  published  by  T.  B.  Peterson  &  Brothers,  has  already  had  a  sale  in  France 
of  over  One  Hundred  Thousand  Copies,  and  "  Heleue,"  which  is  extremely  interesting — 
indeed,  exciting — lately  issued  there,  has  already  passed  into  its  forty-eighth  edition.  One 
of  the  most  noted  literary  editors  in  New  York  wrote  as  follows  "to  Mrs.  Sherwood,  the 
translator:  "  I  have  just  finished  reading,  and  return  to  you  by  mail,  your  advance  copy 
of '  Zola's  '  extraordinary  book, '  Helene.'  It  is  admirably  written,  and  is  full  of  powerful 
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will  have  the  honor  of  introducing  the  cleverest  book  as  well  as  a  new  and  the  greatest 
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from  one  of  the  most  celebrated  critics  in  Paris,  he  says:  "Why  do  you  not  translate 
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L  75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

A  Noble  Lord, 1  75 

Lost  Heir  of  Linlithgow, 1  75 

Tried  for  her  Life, 1  75 

Cruel  as  the  Grave, 1  75 

The  Maiden  Widow, 1  75 

The  Family  Doom, 1  75 

The  Bride's  Fate, 1  75 

The  Changed  Brides, 1  75 

Fallen  Pride, 1  75 

The  Widow's  Son, 1  75 

The  Bride  of  Llewellyn, 1  75 

The  Missing  Bride;  or,  Miriam,  the  Avenger,.....". 1  75 

Above  are  each  in  cloth,  or  each  one  is  in  paper  cover,  at  $1.50  each. 

MRS.  CAROLINE  LEE  HENTZ'S  WORKS. 

Qretn   and  Gold  Edition.      Complete,    in  twelve  volumes,  in  green    morocco  clotJit 
price  $1.75  »ch;  or  $21.00  a  set,  each  set  is  put  up  in  a  neat  box. 


Ernest  Linwood, $1  75 

The  Planter's  Northern  Bride,..  1  75 

Courtship  and  Marriage, 1  75 

Rena;  or,  the  Snow  Bird, 1  75 

Marcus  Warland 1  75 


Love  after  Marriage, >$l  75 

Eoline;  or  Magnolia  Vale, 1  75 

The  Lost  Daughter, 1  75 

The  Banished  Son, 1  75 

Helen  and  Arthur, 1  75 


Linda;  or,  the  Young  Pilot  of  the  Belle  Creole, 1  75 

Robert  Graham;  the  Sequel  to  "  Linda;  or  Pilot  of  Belle  Creole,"...  1  75 
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t'rt  twenty-tlirre  larg"  dnri<li-<-imo  volumes,  bound  in  morocco  cloth,  gilt  bac 
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Married  in  Haste, 

Wives  and  Widows,.. 
Ruby  Gray's  Strategy 


The  Rejected  Wife,... 
The  Wife's  Secret,.... 

Mary  Derwont, 

Fashion  and  Famine, 
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7,>  .Mabel's  Mistake, 

75,  The  Old  Homestead,. 


75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 


Doubly  False,....   1   75  |  The  Heiress,....   1  75  |  The  Gold   Brick,... 
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The  Cardinal's  Daughter, $1   75 

Feme  Fleming, 1  75 

The  Household  of  Bouverie,....  1  75 


Miriam's  Memoirs, $1   75 

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Sea  and  Shoro 1  75 


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lady  Ernestine;  or,  The  Absent  Lord  of  Rocheforte, ....  1  75 

BEST  COOK  BOOKS  PUBLISHED. 

Every  housekeeper  should  possess  at  J'ast  one  of  the  following  Cook  Boo7:s,  as  fliey 
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Miss  Leslie's  New  Cookery  Book, Cloth,      1  75 

Mr*.  Hale's  Now  Cook  Book, Cloth, 

Petersons'  New  Cook  Book Cloth, 

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Mrs.  Goodfellow's  Cookery  ns  it  Should  Bo, Cloth, 

Tho  National  Cook  Book.     By  a  Practical  llousowil'e, Cloth, 

The  Young  Wife's  Cook  Book Cloth, 

Miss  Leslie's  New  Receipts  for  Cooking, Cloth, 


75 

75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 


Mrs.  Hale's  Receipts  for  the  Million, Cloth, 

The  Family  Save-All.    By  author  of  "National  Cook  Book,"  Cloth,     .1  74 
Francatelli's  Modern  Cook.     With  the    most  approved    methods   of 
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A  New  Way  to  Win  a  Fortune  $1  75  |  Why  Did  He  Marry  Her  ? $1  75 


The  Discarded  Wife, 

The  Clandestine  Marriage, 

The  Hidden  Sin, 

The  Dethroned  Heiress, 

The  Gipsy's  Warning, 

All  For  Love,. 


Who  Shall  be  Victor?. 
The  Mysterious  Guest, 

Was  He  Guilty? 

The  Cancelled  Will,.... 
The  Planter's  Daughter,. 


75 
75 
75 
75 
75 

Michael  Rudolph, 1  74 

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Sartaroe, 1  75 

Tho  Three  Cousins 1   75 


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Garstang  Grange, 1  75 


Dream  Numbers, $1  75 

Beppo,  the  Conscript, 1  75 


Leonora  Casaloni,...  1  75  |  Gemum, 1  75  |  Marietta, 1  75 

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Father  and  Daughter, $1  75  I  The  Neighbors, $1  7* 

The  Four  Sisters,... 1  75  I  The  Home, 1  74 

Abov«  are  each  in  cloth,  or  each  one  is  in  paper  cover,  at  $1.50  each. 
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4    T.  B,  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 
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The  Dead  Secret,  8vo 75 

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Hide  and  Seek, 75 

After  Dark, 75 


The  Queen's  Revenge, 7i 

Miss  or  Mrs? 50 

Mad  Monkton, 50 

Sights  a-Foot, 50 


The  Stolen  Mask, 25  |  The  Yellow  Mask,...  25  |  Sister  Rose,..,  25 

The  above  books  are  each  issued  in  paper  cover,  in  octavo  form. 

FRANK  FORRESTER'S  SPORTING  BOOK. 

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'lara  Morcland, 1   75 

'he  Orphan's  Trials, I  75 


Bride  of  the  Wilderness, $1  75 

Ellen  Norbury, I  75 

Kate  Clarendon,...  ..  1  75 


riola:  or  Adventures  in  the  Far  South-West, 1  75 

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Ihe  Heiress  of  Bellefonte, 75  |  The  Pioneer's  Daughter, 75 

GREEN'S  WORKS  ON  GAMBLING. 

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Gambling  Exposed, $1  75  i  Reformed  Gambler, $1  75 

The  Gambler's  Life, 1  75  |  Secret  Band  of  Brother? 1  75 

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SOUTH  WORTH'S  NEW 

SELF-MADE 


OR3  OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS, 

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$3.5O  a  set,  and  is  issued  under  the  names  of 

"ISHMAELI"  AND  "SELF-RAISED." 


MRS.  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH'S  COMPLETE  WORKS. 

Complete  in  forty-three,  volumes,  bound  in  morocco  clo'h,  u-i'/t  a  full  gilt  back,  price 
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Self-Raised;  or,  From  the  Depths,  sequel  to  "Ishmael." 

Mrs.  Southworth's  "  Mother-in-Law ;  or,  Married  in  Haste." 

The  Phantom  'Wedding;  or,  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Flint. 

The  Fatal  Secret.  The  Fatal  Marriage. 

Cruel  as  the  Grave.  Love's  Labor  Won. 

Tried  For  Her  Life.  The  Deserted  Wife. 

Fair  Play.  A  Noble  Lord. 

The  Lost  Heiress.  The  Gipsy's  Prophecy. 

How  He  Won  Her.  Lost  Heir  Linlithgow. 

The  Maiden  Widow.  The  Three  Beauties. 

Victor's  Triumph.  Vivia ;  Secret  of  Power. 

The  Family  Doom.  The  Artist's  Love. 

A  Beautiful  Fiend.  Allworth  Abbey. 

The  Bride's  Fate.  The  Two  Sisters. 

Bride  of  Llewellyn.  Discarded  Daughter. 

The  Changed  Brides.  The  Widow's  Son. 

The  Spectre  Lover.  Wife's  Victory. 

Prince  of  Darkness.  The  Missing  Bride. 

The  Christmas  Guest.  Lady  of  the  Isle. 

Fallen  Pride.  The  Haunted  Homestead. 

The  Fortune  Seeker.  The  Curse  of  Clifton. 

Retribution.  India ;  Pearl  of  Pearl  River, 

The  Bridal  Eve.  Mystery  of  Dark  Hollow. 


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4t 


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BONNE-MARIE.    A  Love  Story.    By  Henry  Gr'emlle,  author  of  "  Dosia,"  "  Marrying 

Off  a  Daughter,"  "  Saveli's  Expiation,"  "  Markof,"  and  "  Gabrielle." 
MISS  MARGERY'S  ROSES.    A  Charming  Love  Story.    By  Robert  C.  Meyers. 
DOURNOF.    A  Russian  Story.    By  Henry  Greviiie,  author  of  "Dosia,"  "Saveli'g 

Expiation,"  "  Borne-Marie,"  and  "  Marrying  Off  a  Daughter." 
"  THEO."    A  Love  Story.    By  Mrs.  Burnett,  author  of  "  Kathleen." 
KATHLEEN.     A  Love  Story.    By  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett,  author  of  "  Theo," 

"  Pretty  Polly  Pemberton,"  "  Miss  Crespigny,"  "A  Quiet  Life,"  etc. 
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SONIA.    A  Russian  Love  Story.     By  Henry  Greviiie,  author  of  "  Marrying  Off  a 

Daughter,"  "  Dosia,"  "  Markof,"  etc.     Translated  by  Mary  Neal  Sherwood. 
A  QUIET  LIFE.    By  Mrs.  Burnett,  author  of  "  Kathleen,"  and  "  Theo." 
A  FRIEND ;   or,  L'AMIE.     By  Henry  Greviiie,  author  of  "  Souia,"  "  Saveli's  Expia- 

tion,"  "  Markof,"  and  "  Marrying  Off  a  Daughter." 
PRETTY  POLLY  PEMBERTON.     A  Love  Story.     By  Mrs.  Burnett. 
A  WOMAN'S  MISTAKE;    or,    JACQUES   DE   TREVANNES.      A  Charming  Love 

Story.    By  Madame  Angtle  Dussaud.     Translated  by  Mary  Neal  Sherwood. 
SYBIL  BROTHERTON.    A  Novel.    By  Mrs.  Emma  D.  E.  N.  Southwortk. 
FATHER  TOM  AND  THE  POPE;  or,  A  NIGHT  AT  THE  VATICAN.    With  Illus- 

trations  of  the  scenes  that  took  place  between  the  Pope  and  Father  Tom. 
MADELEINE.    A  Love  Story.    By  Jules  Sandeau.    Crowned  by  French  Academy. 
SAVELI'S  EXPIATION.     By  Henry  Greviiie,  author  of  "  Dosia."     A  dramatic  and 

powerful  novel  of  Russian  life.     Translated  by  Mary  Neal  Sherwood. 
TWO  WAYS  TO  MATRIMONY ;   or,  IS  IT  LOVE  *  or,  FALSE  PRIDE. 
GABRIELLE;  or,  THE  HOUSE  OF  MAUREZE.      Translated  from  the  French  of 

Henry  Greviiie,  author  of  "Saveli's  Expiation,"  "Markof,"  "Sonia,"  "Dosia." 
STORY  OF  "  ELIZABETH."     By  Miss  Thackeray,  daughter  of  W.  M.  Thackeray. 
THE  DAYS  OF  MADAME  POMPADOUR ;  or,  MADAME  POMPADOUR'S  GARTEB, 

A  Romance  of  the  Reign  of  Louis  XV.    By  Gabrielle  L~  St.  Andre. 
CARMEN.    By  Prosper  Merimee.    From,  which  opera  of  "Carmen"  was  dramatized. 
THE  MATCHMAKER.    A  Charming  Novel.    By  Beatrice  Reynolds.     All  the  char- 

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TEE  AMOURS  OF  PHILLIPPE.     "  PHILLIPPE'S  LOVE  AFFAIRS."    By  Feuillet. 
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1SS  CRESPIGNY.     A  Powerful  Love  Story.    By  Mrs.  Frances 

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THE  "MOTHER-IN-LAW;"   or,    MARRIED  IN  HASTE. 
THE  MISSING  BRIDE;   or,    MIRIAM,  THE  AVENGER. 

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A  BEAUTIFUL  FIEND;  or,   THROUGH  THE  FIRE. 
THE  LADY  OF  THE  ISLE;   or,    THE  ISLAND  PRINCESS. 
FAIR  PLAY;   or,  BRITOMARTE,   THE    MAN-HATER. 
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CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE;   or,  Hallow  Eve  Mystery. 
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THE  LOST  HEIR  OF  LINLITHGOW;    or,  The  Brothers. 

A  NOBLE  LORD.     The  Sequel  to  "The  Lost  Heir  of  Llnlithgow." 
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THE  MAIDEN  WIDOW.    The  Sequel  to  "The  Family  Doom." 
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THE  FORTUNE  SEEKER;  or,  Astrea,  The  Bridal  Day. 

THE  THREE  BEAUTIES;  or,  SHANNONDALE. 
FALLEN  PRIDE;  or,  THE  MOUNTAIN  GIRL'S  LOVE. 
THE  DISCARDED  DAUGHTER;    or,  The  Children  of  the  Isle. 
THE  PRINCE  OF  DARKNESS;    or,  HICKORY  HALL. 
THE  TWO  SISTERS;   or,    Virginia  and  Magdalene. 
THE   FATAL   MARRIAGE;    or,    ORVILLE   DEVILLE. 

INDIA;   or,  THE  PEARL  OF   PEARL  RIVER.          THE  CURSE  OF  CLIFTON, 
THE  WIDOW'S  SON;    or,   LEFT    ALONE.  THE  WIFE'S  VICTORY 

THE   MYSTERY   OF    DARK    HOLLOW.  THE  SPECTRE  LOVER. 

ALLWORTH  ABBEY;   or,  EUDORA,  THE  ARTIST'S  LOVE. 

THE  BRIDAL   EVE;   or,    ROSE    ELMER.  THE  FATAL  SECRET. 

VIVIA;   or,  THE  SECRET  OF  POWER.  LOVE'S  LABOR  WON. 

THE  HAUNTED  HOMESTEAD.  THE  LOST  HEIRESS. 

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Emile  Zola's  Great  Works! 

HE  ABBE'S~TEMPTATM. 

(LA    FAUTE    DE    L'ABBE    MOURET.) 

A.   LOVE    STORY. 


TVT 
JML 

AUTHOR  OF  "  L'ASSOMMOIB,"  "  H£LANE,"  ETC.,  ETC. 
TRANSLATED  PBOM  THE  PBENCH  BY  JOHN  STIRLING. 

P1  '  THE  ABBE'S  TEMPTATION/  "  by  Emile  Zola,  writes  one  of  the  most  noted  literart 
liters  in  New  York,  to  John  Stirling,  the  translator,  "is  the  sweetest  love  story  I 
er  read,  and  is  a  great  book,  for  there  is  much  in  the  work  that  is  lovely  and  pathetic. 
|  is  a  work  of  marvellous  ability,  not  immoral  in  any  sense,  while  it  teaches  a  lesson. 
le  Abbe  Mourc-f,  brother  of  Helene,  who  serves  to  point  the  moral  in  Zola's  previous 
>rk,  entitled,  '  H.'lOne,  a  Love  Kpisode,'  is  the  Cur6  of  a  poor  village  whose  inhabitants 
e  steeped  in  all  the  degradation  of  peasant  life.  In  the  Abbe"  is  developed  the  devo- 
mal  spirit  of  his  mother.  Innocent  of  all  guile,  uncomfortable  and  blushing  at  the 
nfessions  of  his  female  parishioners  ;  «l.-v«  >;«  •<!  to  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  he, 
jth  his  half-witted  sister,  lives  a  life  of  purity  and  happiness,  until  his  mind  is 
^balanced  by  the  suggestions  of  a  zealot,  and  by  the  constant  strain  on  both  mind 
|d  body,  caused  by  his  incessant  vigils.  To  save  his  life,  his  uncle,  Dr.  Pascal,  takes 
m  to  a  deserted  v'illa.  and  confides  him  to  the  care  of  a  half-wild  niece  of  the  man 
charge.  Gradually  his  reason  is  restored  ;  and  with  returning  reason  comes  health, 
•ength  and  love.  His  fault  no  one  can  condemn  but  himself.  Jn  his  own  hard, 
iflinching  style,  Zola  dissects  the  vices  of  the  peasantry,  the  .salacious  nature  of  the 
alot,  and  the  animal  instincts  of  his  sister;  but  when  he  depicts  the  innocent  love 


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EMILE  ZOLA'S  OTHEE  WOEKS. 

'ASSOMMOIR.     lly  tin  He  Zola,  author  of  "The  Abbe's  Temptation,"  "  II61ene," 
Price  75  cents  in  paper,  or  $1.00  in  cloth. 

!;  or,  UNE  PAGE  D'AMOUR.     T??/  Kmilf  7<>ln,  author  of "  L'Assommoir,* 
Abbe's  Temptation,"  etc.    Pric.-  L  paper,  or  $1.25  in  oloth. 

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Rancy  Cottem's  Courtship. 

1V1TH  EIGHT  FULL  PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
BY  M^LJOR   JOSEPH   JONES. 


(OF  FINEVILLE,  GEORGIA.) 


II 


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"  Rancy  pulled  his  chair  a  little  closer,  and  caught  hold  of  the  thread,  while  she  went  on  kuittin." 


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By  author  of  "  L' Assommoir." 


A    X.OVE    EPISODES. 

(UNE    PAGE    D'AMOUR.) 


AUTHOR    OF    "I/ASSOMMOIR,"    "THE    ROUGON-MACQUART    FAMILY,"    OR. 

"LA  FOR  1  INF.   DES   KoUtloN,"   "THE  AIJUE'S  TEMI'TATlUN,"  OR, 

"LA    1.M1E    L-E    L'AI:l;K   MuLKET,"    LIC. 


"EMU.!-:  7<>i.\"  r  in  Franco  nt  the  present  day.     LTis  novel, 

•  ••IMOIR,"  published  by  T.  H.  ivti-r^.n  ^  lin.thers,  Philadelphia,  has  already 
lad  a  sale  in  Fran<  •: ..•  lliimin-fl  Thousand  Copie«,  and (<  fi  KI.KNK;  OK,  UNK 

?AGK    J>'  \vlii.-u   is  extrenu-ly   intt-ri-stin^ — indeed,  exciting— lately  issued 

hen-,  }\.\.<  .-fiu'hth  edition.     One  of  tlie  most  noted  liter- 

ary edit  rs  in  New  York  wrote  as  follows  to  the  translator:  "  I  have  just  finished 
reading,  and  retarn  to  yoa  by  mail,  your  advance  copy  of  '  ZOLA'S*  extraordinary 
book,  ;  on,  i'NK  I'A(.I:  D'A.Mouu.'  It  is  admirably  written,  and  is  full  of 

jowerful  and  life-like  delineation-;  -if  eharaeter,  and  in  this  respect  surpasses  any  of 
lis  preceding  j>u!)li<v.  \vith  your  skill,  will  have  no  difficulty  in  ren- 

dering it  into  pure  En^li>li.     h  it  at  once,  and   your  publishers 

will  have  the  honor  of  introducing  t,.  -   hook  as  well  as  the  greatest  writer 

of  the  day  to  the  Am>-rieau  public.."     And  in  a  i  vi-d  by  the  translator  from 

one  of  the  most  celebrated   critics    i:i    Paris,    hr   says  :  "  Why   do   you  not  translate 
ZOLA'S' new  book,  •  HKI.KNK;  <>i:,  L'si:  I'AC.I;  D'AMoru'  at  once?    It  is  the  great 
sensation  over  here.     The  book  is  admirably  written  by  a  truly  groat   artist,  with  a 
>owerful  realism  and  .  Interest,  and  would  he  a  sj)lendid  card  for  you  to  play, 

ind  woald  prove  to  be  a  gr  in  America.     The  characters  and  scenes  of  the 

story  are  well  conceive  1  and  well  executed,  and  it  is  impossible  to  deny  the  author's 
great  skill,  for  e  r  will  acknowledge  '  ZOLA'S'  gnat  power  in  'llEi.fiNE.' 

Besides  the  story,  there  are  many  to  rapturous  descriptions  of  Paris  at 

sunri  id  at  ni^ht.      7-ola  ha>  made  his  name  famous,  and  he 

will  lind  plenty  of'readers  for  all  he  writes.    His  name  alone  will  make  any  book  sell." 

Paper  Cover,  75  Cents.    Morocco  Cloth,  Gilt  and  Black,  $1.25. 


MAJOR  JONES'S  TRAVELS, 

By  Author  of  "Major  Jones's  Courtship." 


"  Says  she  to  Major  Jones,  I'm  a  poor  woman,  my  husban' s  sick,  won't  you  hold  this  hundle  for  me  till  I  g< 
n  the  drug-store  for  some  medicin'.  I  did  so,  got  tired  of  waiting,  and  walked  down  to  the  lamp-post  to  se 
vhat  it  was.  '  It  was  a  live  baby,'  and  the  sweat  poured  out  of  me,  I  tell  you,  in  a  stream."— Page.  114. 

[>NE  VOLUME,  SQUARE  12mo.,  PAPER  COVER.    PRICE  75  CENTS 

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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


Emile  Zola's  Greatest  Work! 

OVER  100,000  COPIES  S01D  IN  FRANCE. 

'ASSOMMOIR! 


AUTHOR  OF  "THE  ABBE'S  TEMPTATION,"  "  HELENE,"  ETC. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  TRENCH  BY  JOHN  STIRLING, 

lead  u'Jint  Dr.  G.  I).  Cor,  tfic  TAtrrary  Editor  of  TJtc,  Philadelphia,   Chroniflc- 
lltrald,  sai/s  oj  '  <•  L'  A.s.sotitmoir,"  Editorially,  in  that  Paper. 

I*  L'  ASSOMMOIR,"  a  Novel,  by  Emile  Zola,  translated  from  the  French  by  John  Stir- 

|g,  is  published  this  day  l»y  T.  15.  Peterson  A:  Brothers,  Philadelphia,  and  is  one  of 

most  wonderful  novels  ever  printed,  and   for  intensity  of  realism,  has  no  equal, 

ing  already  alUiim-d  a  sal.-  in   France  of  over  One  Hundred  Thousand  Copies. 

e  publication  in  English  of  this,  the  greatest  novel  of  the  greatest  French  realistic 

'elist,  is,  in  all  scn<f<,  an  experiment.     The  'Assommoir'  probes  to  the  uttermost 

)ths  the  spring*  of  degradation  and  depravity  among  the  lower  orders  of  the  Parisian 

halation,  and  the  picture  presented  has  not  a  single  touch  of  varnish.     There  it  is  in 

[its  hideous  and  sickening  reality,  even  the  coarse  local  slang  is  reproduced  in  such 

Idness  us  to  make  the  render  start,  and  Zola  stops  at  nothing.     He  takes  his  subject 

[he  finds  it,  and  reproduces  it  with  the  most  scrupulous  fidelity.     Such  a  novel  as 

^  'Assommoir,'  and  such  a  novelist  as    'Zola,'  are  new  to  the  American    public, 

Mr.  Stirling,  at  the  instance  of  his  publishers,  has  undertaken  the  herculean  task 

Mirifying  the.  'Asxommoir,'  that  our  readers  may  get  the  gist  of  the  great  book 

let  yet  not  be  shocked.     It  is  but  just  to  say  that  he  has  done  his  work  with  much 

ill"  and  judgment.     Mr.  Stirling  gives  the  story,  its  animus  and  its  vivid  local  color- 

f,  but  he  does  so  in  a  refined  way,  and,  strange  to  say,  he  has  not  weakened  the 

ssommoir'  in  the  Iea<r  by  so  dofng.     He  shows  Gervaise,  her  struggles  to  be  an 

[nest  woman,  her  troubles,  and  her  final  fall  into  the  slough  of  sin,  ending  in  a 

luper's  death.     He  shows  (  'nupeau,  at  first  a  good  citizen  and  an  estimable  man,  then 

jsing  through  all  the  stages  of  drunkenness  to  his  end  by  delirium  tremens  in  th« 

spital.     The  smooth-tongued  Lantier,  Nana,  who  took  naturally  to  sin,  and  Goujet, 

manly  and  virtuous  blacksmith,  are  all  there.     We  would  advise  all  who  cannot 

..ci  the  'Assommoir'   in  the  original  French  to  read  Mr.  Stirling's  version  of  it. 

icy  will  find  the  book  a  curiosity,  to  say  the  least  of  it." 

Paper  Cover,  75  Cents.    Morocco  Cloth,  Gilt  and  Black,  $1.00. 


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T.  B.  PETERSOX  &  BROTHERS,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


Major  Jones's  Courtship, 

WITH  21  FULL  PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
BY  MA.JOR    JOSEPH    JOISTES. 


(OF  PINEVILKE,   GEORGIA.) 


i 


84 

M 

IS 


i 

•s  £ 

*      /^ 

If 


II 


"By  this  time  the  galls  was  holt  of  my  coat-tail,  hollerin  as  hard  as  they  could.'* 
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T.  B.  PETEKSOX  &  BliOTHJtiKS,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


AJOR  JONES'S  COURTSHIP 

AND  HIS  OTHER  BOOKS,  FOE  SALE  BY  ALL  BOOKSELLERS,  AXD  PUBLISHED  BY 

B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS,  PHILADELPHIA. 


Major  Jones's  Courtship. 

IAJOR  JONES'S  COURTSHIP.    Detailed,  with  Humorous  Scenes,  Inci- 
its,  ami  Adventures.      l>y  Major  Joseph  Jones,  author  of  "Ilancy  Cot- 
In's  Courtship,"  "  Major  Jones's  Sketches  <>!'  Travel,"  "Major  Jones's 
[ro  nicies  of  Piueville,"  e  -ed  and  Enlarged.     With  Twenty-One 

ill  Pa-jre  Illustrations  on  Tinted   Plate  Paper,  by  Darley  and  Cary.     One 
lume,  liimo.,  uniform  with  this  volume,  price  7o  cents. 

Raney  Cottem's  Courtship. 

INCY  COTTEM'S  COURTSHIP.  With  Other  Humorous  Stories.  By 
ijor  Joseph  Jones,  author  of  "  Major  Jones's  Courtship,"  tv  Major  Jones's 
letches  of  Travi-I."  "  Major  Jones's  Chronicles  of  .Pineville,"  etc.  With 
[ght  Full  Pa<re  Illustrations  on  Tinted  Plate  Paper,  by  Cary.  One  voi- 
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